


Versions of You

by blueenvelopes935



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, In Universe, Reylo - Freeform, in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-08-24 18:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 64
Words: 328,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16645742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueenvelopes935/pseuds/blueenvelopes935
Summary: Supreme Leader Ren makes Rey an offer she can’t refuse.  But this time he doesn’t ask her to join him.  He wants her to fight him.  But Rey has given up trying to redeem the conflicted Ben Solo.





	1. Chapter 1

The Jedi books he stole from Rey call this mystical plane the World Between Worlds. But it really should be called the Worlds That Never Were because as far as Kylo can tell, this is where the Force presents its ‘what ifs.’ Each time he steps through the portal into the shockingly fluid cosmic Force, Kylo sees time twisting back on itself to present alternative realities. As far as he can tell, those realities seem to exist in parallel with his own. But somehow, they link to his existence anyway. Because each time he encounters his family. 

Where is he this time? Oh, yeah, here. Mos Eisley Spaceport on Tatooine. Fuck, he hates this version of the future. Or maybe this version of the present? Kylo is not really sure when or if this version of events ever takes place. But he hates it all the same. It’s like the Force is fucking with him when it takes him here. 

But . . . here he is again. Kylo ducks his head as he walks into the sandy hovel his extended family calls home. It is furnished mostly with spare parts, crumpled fast food wrappers, and a couple of sad looking couches that were new before he was born. Clearly, no woman has lived here for a long, long time. There’s way too much mess.

His grandfather is seated at the table tinkering as usual. As Kylo walks in, eighty-year-old Anakin Skywalker looks up from the pod racing engine he’s working on, lifts his safety glasses, and grabs a greasy rag to wipe off his hands. 

“Heya kid, did they give you leave?” he calls. It’s a normal voice, not the deep stentorian tones that his Darth Vader mask reportedly produced. 

“Yes,” Kylo nods. He’s trying hard not to show how much he is inwardly cringing at this version of reality. This is the life in which Darth Vader is a semi-retired drug smuggling pilot for the Tatooine branch of the Hutt cartel. Kylo hates to see his revered grandsire as a shady old man whose glory days were spent fleeing TIE fighters rather than flying them. 

His elderly grandfather stands and putters over to the sink to wash his hands, flashing the cursive ‘Padme’ tattoo on the inside of his wrist. He moves easily despite his years. Anakin Skywalker is rather astoundingly spry although his stance is a little stooped now. Probably from decades spent bending over mechanical projects or hunched over starship controls. He looks a bit thin from age, but otherwise he appears just fine. 

“Your old man went into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters. He should be back soon.”

“Making a run soon?” Kylo asks, searching for how to change the topic from his loser father. How in the Hell Han Solo ended up first mate on Anakin Skywalker’s smuggling freighter is a story he doesn’t know. But apparently, it’s how Han Solo married the bosses’ daughter and that’s how he came along. 

In this reality, Leia Skywalker Solo is long dead, having suffocated in a sandstorm. 

Luke Skywalker is very gratifyingly in jail. 

His grandfather turns around and nods. “I’m moving product to the Core next. Then it’s the usual Kessel Run. Nothing special.” 

Gazing at the man he idolizes but never met, Kylo thinks that even in old age in obscurity in the Outer Rim, he has a princely bearing. Anakin Skywalker has a full head of steel grey hair and a handsome lined face that look incongruous with his greasy worn work tunic and sandy boots. 

“Don’t suppose you could tell your buddies in the Empire to lay off the patrols, now could you?”

Kylo gives a wry smile. “If I could, I would.”

“Just make sure you let us know if you get transferred that direction. I don’t want your dad or I to blow your TIE accidentally.”

Kylo smirks. “As if either of you could catch me.”

That bravado prompts a wide smile and a chuckle. “Don’t get cocky, kid. We may have taught you all we know, but your old man is still the best starpilot in the galaxy.”

Whatever. Kylo doesn’t want to hear praises for Han Solo. The fact that Darth Vader and Han Solo are longtime drinking buddies and co-pilots in this reality is super fucking weird. 

His grandfather looks him over with approval. “Look at you in that uniform. A lieutenant. Damn, you make us look good. From slave to free to respectable in three generations.” The old man grins. “Your mother would be so proud.”

Just then Han Solo clamors in. “Those damn jawas were there first and they were sold out of—“

“Forget it. Look who’s here.”

“Heya kid.” Han Solo, jacket on and blaster strapped to his thigh as always, wanders over to clap him on the back. In his middle sixties, his father looks like he always does. With that same smirking sneer that belongs on a younger man’s face. At this age, it just gives off grumpy old man vibes. Still . . . the guy has swagger in spades and attitude to spare. It’s really annoying actually. What did his mother ever see in this shifty loser, Kylo wonders. 

“Didn’t know you were coming. We almost missed you.” His dad squints at him and frowns. “Is that long hair regulation? It would not have passed muster back in my day.”

“He’s no platoon grunt like you, Han,” Anakin speaks up. “The boy is an officer.”

“Junior lieutenant,” his father grumbles. 

“Better than your AWOL sorry ass,” his grandfather retorts.

“Don’t start, Snips,” Han Solo complains. And here is yet another annoying aspect of this reality—the tendency of his father and his grandfather to bicker like an old married couple. It’s embarrassing. Grown men—grown old men—shouldn’t act like this. And that nickname Snips is just terrible. 

“So . . . what’s new?” Anakin wants to know. 

“Nothing much.”

“Come on, spill it,” his father urges impatiently. “Whatcha been up to?”

“Well, . . . uh . . . . I . . . . uh . . . I met a girl,” Kylo blurts out, searching for a safe topic.

“Oh.” His grandfather now has a twinkle in his eye. He exchanges glances with Han Solo. “This is news.”

“First I’ve heard of it. Did you get her pregnant?” his father demands as he sighs. “Is that it?”

“No, Dad,” Kylo complains. “It’s not like that.”

“Haven’t scored yet, then?” his father gibes. “I’m not surprised.”

“Han, shut up. Let him talk.” Anakin shoots his father a look. “Tell us about her, Ben.”

“Her name is Rey,” Kylo begins. Her name is Rey and he hasn’t seen her in two years but he’s crazy about her. Over the course of about a month, their paths crossed again and again and then she was gone from his life. But he can’t stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her. 

“Is she cute?” His father cuts to the chase. 

“Of course, she’s cute,” Anakin intercedes. 

“She looks a little like Grandma actually,” Kylo suggests, searching to how to explain Rey in this context.

“Then she’s definitely cute,” Anakin decides. “What’s she like?”

“She’s a mechanic.”

“I like her already,” his grandfather approves.

Encouraged, Kylo reveals more. “She’s Rim. From a desert world like here. She used to do a lot of desert scavenging, actually.”

His father snorts. “What is she? A fucking jawa? Ben’s in love with a fucking jawa, Snips.”

“Shut up, Han.” Anakin is looking at him closely. It makes Kylo want to squirm. “So . . . is this serious?”

“She hates me,” Kylo confesses the awful truth. “I really pissed her off.”

“Grovel,” Han Solo advises automatically. “Tell her what she wants to hear. Lie if you have to. Women love to humble a guy.”

“Nah. Don’t do that.” His grandfather dismisses this suggestion. “Were you in the wrong?” he asks.

Kylo thinks a moment back to the last time he saw Rey. She and the few who remained of the Resistance were cornered in the Rim not long after Crait. The final battle had been brief and bloody. No quarter once again. In the end, he had spared his mother who was already dying of radiation sickness from her exposure to space. He had also spared Rey. But he made the two women watch as he executed all their rebel friends. He had been trying to prove the point that the war was over and he had won. But hysterical, tearful Rey ranted about what a monster he was, what a disappointment he had been, how duped she felt. His mother said nothing as she looked on in silence and leaned heavily on her cane. You organize another rebellion, and this will be the fate of all of your followers, Kylo warned them both sternly. 

The timing was utterly wrong yet again, but before he left Kylo offered Rey an opportunity to join him. It was a magnanimous second chance at the life she turned down on the Supremacy. This time she didn’t just turn him down, she spat on him. The trashpicking Jakku scavenger got under his skin with that gross rejection. He grabbed the ancient Jedi tomes she clutched to her chest, gripped her by the throat, and informed her she was making a big mistake she would regret. Then he ordered his troops to pull out, leaving the two women standing stranded and alone, surrounded by bodies. 

So . . . was he in the wrong? “No, I wasn’t in the wrong.” Rey might think he was, but he doesn’t believe so. He had ended the war and brought peace and order to the galaxy. What’s so wrong about that?

His grandfather doesn’t ask any questions. “Okay, then don’t apologize. Sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. But don’t be an asshole about it. Let her know you care,” he counsels. 

Kylo sighs. “It’s too late. We’re broken up.”

His father grunts at this news. “Well, move on. More fish in the sea, kid. Go rebound with some hot chick,” Han Solo advises. “Spend some of that second lieutenant cash on another girl.”

“He doesn’t want another girl,” Anakin points out. “Sounds like it’s time for the grand gesture,” he judges.

“Nah, don't do that—“

Again, his grandfather shoots his dad a quelling look. “Show up at her house with flowers and tell her how you feel and that you want to try again. Tell her you can move past your issues.”

“How do we do that?” Kylo complains. “I think she hates me now.”

“Well, if you can’t resolve your problems, maybe you can ignore them. Or just tolerate them,” his grandfather suggests.

“She lives on another system now.” Rey is on Dantooine working a dead-end job in a droid factory currently. 

“Well, she can get a job near you, can’t she?”

“Yeah, I suppose so . . . ” Kylo can’t really imagine Rey living on Coruscant.

“Sounds risky,” his father inserts himself with more negativity. “I’d move on, kid.”

Anakin disagrees. “If she’s special to Ben, then she’s worth taking a risk for. Is she special?” his grandfather asks.

Kylo nods sadly. “She’s one in a billion.” He’s so hung up on this girl. Ever since they touched hands in the Force, he’s been longing for her. In his late-night fantasies, she turns to him in Snoke’s burning throne room riddled with bodies and accepts his hand. Then he tugs her close and goes in for a kiss. That day, Snoke dies, the Resistance dies, and he and Rey begin. If only that were the case . . . 

Does his grandfather see his wistful look? He must. “Well, there you have it. Go get her, Ben.”

Before he can respond, his grandfather’s com buzzes and it’s work. That gives Han Solo an opportunity to slide over and ask under his breath, “Hey, can I borrow twenty credits, kid? We don’t get paid until after this shipment.”

Typical, Kylo thinks. Somethings never change. Even in this alternate universe his deadbeat dad is still a loser. But to make it easy, Kylo just digs in his pocket to hand over the cash. 

“Thanks, kid. I owe you.”

Kylo gives him a tight smile. He knows he’ll get his payback on Starkiller Base. And it will be very, very satisfying. 

His grandfather is off his com now. “Trouble?” Han Solo correctly reads his father-in-law’s expression. 

“Yeah. The Pikes are making noise about raising prices again. We need to leave now. Let’s be sure to charge up the main gun. We might have to fight our way off Kessel.”

“Sure thing, Snips.” 

“I’ll walk you to the ship,” Kylo offers as he watches his father and grandfather gather up their gear. Docking bay 94 is nearby, so their trio troops on foot to where the Millennium Falcon awaits. In this reality, the Falcon is well maintained and painted black with blue trim. Kylo credits the flashy styling to his grandfather. Han Solo never kept anything looking nice. 

Watching his father climb the ramp of his beloved ship, Kylo thinks of how he remembers this scene reenacted hundreds of times over during his childhood. Only his mother would be present then. She’d be fuming as she watched her husband leave. Leia Organa spent most of his childhood angry. She was angry at her husband, irritated with her son, and stressed from her job. Looking back now from an adult perspective, Kylo sees how unhappy she was. 

His grandfather lingers a moment at his side. He shoots a glance his direction. “Your dad loves you. You know that, right? He’s just not good at showing it. After your mom died—“

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“Do you?” Anakin Skywalker raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Yeah, he gets it. Han Solo is an asshole in any version of reality. 

His grandfather, however, is not. Darth Vader is far more sensitive and caring than the rest of his family. It just reaffirms to Kylo how deserving Anakin Skywalker is of his esteem. Because even this aged, lackluster version who never met a Jedi Master is a good man. 

“We gotta get going,” his grandfather says apologetically. “Sorry about this. Next time, we’ll talk longer, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.” Kylo holds out his hand for a handshake but Anakin ignores it and grabs him for a backslapping bear hug. 

Kylo closes his eyes and revels in the moment. These days, it’s only in the World Between Worlds that he ever encounters people who care about him. And a hug from Darth Vader—even this version of Darth Vader—is something special. 

“Take care, Ben,” Anakin says sincerely. “You’re going to be the very best of the Skywalkers. Just you wait.” 

They part as his father’s voice hollers out, “You coming, Snips?”

“Go make things right with your girl. Bring her by sometime. I’d like to meet this Rey,” his grandfather tells him.

“Yeah, okay,” Kylo instantly accepts. Then he watches his grandfather stride up the ramp of the Falcon. 

Maybe this miserable existence as a Hutt pensioner isn’t so bad, Kylo thinks as he watches the ship liftoff. His family hadn’t seemed unhappy. And for all their misfortunes in this reality, what little remains of his clan is still together. There is more unity here on miserable hardscrabble Tatooine than there ever was in his cushy reality. It’s a sobering realization that a small, insignificant life like this might be far happier than a life that makes the history books. And he should know. Because while he rules the galaxy, he is more alone than ever before. That’s why he comes here to the home of the only person who he thinks would understand.

Kylo steps back through the portal now. He’s back where he began in his ancestral castle on Mustafar. Darth Vader’s foreboding home on the Hellish lava world turned out to be more than just a personal retreat from the demanding life of a Sith Lord. The true value of this place lies not in its historical significance or in its physical comforts but in its mental stimulation. For this castle is located at a nexus of the Force where Light and Dark converge and bend. Here the invisible energy field that binds the universe together is particularly strong. Some places like this provoke visions or conjure long dead spirits. The Dark Side, in particular, seems to linger about certain locations and artifacts. But Vader’s castle takes things to the next level. This isn’t some magical Jedi Temple or haunted Sith tomb. Here at Mustafar, the Force is strong enough for you to literally enter its metaphysical realm. 

It’s simply amazing. 

But it’s also befuddling as Hell. 

Every time he steps out of the alternative realities the Force shows him, things resume right where they left off. It makes Kylo wonder how truly real his own existence as Supreme Leader Ren actually is. It also makes him wonder what alternative realities Darth Vader saw through this portal. 

Kylo spends long moments contemplating what the Force has shown him this time. He always looks for a lesson. But not finding any deeper meaning to this experience, he decides to take his grandfather’s advice literally. 

Kylo reaches into his pocket for his comlink. He dials up his Chief of Intelligence who oversees the First Order secret police. 

“The Resistance girl you’ve been watching on Dantooine.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader?”

“Bring her in.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rey is a long, long way from Jakku.  That has more to do with who she is now, than where she is.  For her experiences have changed her. 

 

What is there good to say about her brief intense stint with the Resistance?  Not much.  It forced her to confront the long buried, much repressed truth about her parents.  That got her off Jakku.  There was no reason to remain there waiting in vain for a family who will never come. 

 

And maybe that is the true meaning of her time with the Resistance:  it matured her. She’s moved past fairytales of good versus evil and love conquering all.  They are moral fantasies that don’t hold up in the real world.  Rey has also put away childish dreams of being rescued from her circumstances.  She will have to save herself and make her own future.  There is no one to help her now.  And while she still wishes she could belong to someone or some cause, she will choose more wisely next time.   She was foolish to rush headlong into war only to see her new friends slaughtered before her very eyes. 

 

She had a lot of anger about that at first.   Then, she became mired in survivor’s guilt.  Finally, she accepted what happened and moved on.  Rey no longer wants to be a hero.  She’s given up on the Force.   She won’t risk opposing the First Order any longer.  For what is the point?   Kylo Ren had the perfect opportunity to choose the Light and he declined.  Short of killing him, what can she do?  Change comes mostly from within.  She can't make him see things differently if he refuses.

 

Rey understands Luke Skywalker much better now.   She herself lived two months with the Resistance before she gave up the fight.  Luke Skywalker stuck with it for far longer than that.  What must it have felt like for Master Skywalker to spend his whole life at war?   Watching his friends die while he grew old?  Seeing his star student turn on him?   No wonder Luke Skywalker retreated to Ahch-To.  He had done all he could do, and it still wasn’t enough. The legacy of the Jedi is failure, she remembers him saying.  In the end, he was right.   Because when Rey herself tried to be a good Jedi, nothing went as planned.

 

In hindsight, Rey sees how foolish she was.   She was a bystander who got caught up in a war.  She stayed involved mostly because it was her ticket off Jakku and a chance to make real friendships.  The Resistance offered her a home and an opportunity to belong to something bigger than herself.   Rey had been dazzled by the chance to be a noble Jedi Knight.  She was taken in by romantic dreams of fighting for truth and justice against all odds.  Impressed too by the esprit de corps of the underdog, ragtag band of Resistance members.  That this was happening to a nobody like herself fueled her belief that the Force had chosen her as its champion.  The orphan scavenger Rey of Jakku would be the one to convince the prodigal Skywalker heir to return to the Light.   Because with hope and help, surely Ben Solo would seek redemption.  Right??  If Kylo Ren’s beloved grandfather Darth Vader would do it, then surely he would too.

 

Yes, she had been a fool. 

 

In the end, her grand gesture only enabled Kylo Ren to kill his Master and consolidate his power.  He moved quickly to eradicate what remained of his opposition.  Then he set up his capital on Coruscant and began running the show. 

 

For two years, Rey has watched from a distance.  There are no more connections between her and Kylo through the Force.  After Crait, she effectively shut down the strange bond they shared.  It had sputtered and flickered a few times afterwards before it ended for good.  That had been a great relief.   It meant Rey was back to being what she should have been all along:  an onlooker to galactic events.  Not center stage in a starring role.

 

Kylo Ren’s reign looks okay if you squint your eyes, but up close the truth reveals itself.  His Second Empire is as repressive as Rey feared it would be.  It’s supposedly peacetime now, but the ranks of civilian leadership on all the major systems are full of First Order military personnel.  Their official party line is fascist doublespeak that stonewalls the truth very effectively.   The resulting culture of fear has people holding their breath for what’s coming next.  For the First Order brought peace and order but at great cost.  After what happened to Hosnia, nothing is unthinkable now. 

 

The trappings of the new regime ape the throwback ways of their predecessor Empire.  There is even a new Imperial Senate.   Suddenly everything retro is chic again. But it’s all a little wannabe, like the First Order is trying too hard for legitimacy.   There is widespread sentiment that these guys are a bunch of losers who never would have cut it back in Palpatine’s day.  People fear them, but they don’t respect them.  And that matters far more than the First Order will admit.

 

The rumors of Kylo Ren’s violent rages and mental instability don’t help matters.  A good portion of the populace finds the thirty-three-year-old Supreme Leader a bit of an embarrassment.  The conventional wisdom holds that he is in way over his head.  The Core World news media considers him pathetic and worthy of contempt, but still extremely dangerous.  Like an incel with an assault rifle blaster walking into a school, he’ll soon go out in a nihilist blaze of glory, they predict.  But he’ll take plenty of innocents with him, and that’s the problem.  It’s why two years after Crait, the galaxy is still in wait-and-see mode.  

 

Except for Rey.  She’s moved on from her disillusionment and disappointment.  She’s gotten used to people letting her down.  First Luke Skywalker wasn’t all she hoped for, then she faced the truth about her parents’ betrayal, and finally Ben Solo wasn’t who she wanted him to be either.  So, Rey is done with placing her faith in others.  She will depend only on herself.  Now, she lives an anonymous, quiet life working an average job.  She’s nothing now, like Kylo once said himself.  But all in all, it’s not a bad life.  Rey is far more secure and much less alone than on Jakku.  It ought to make her happy, but it doesn’t.  But it’s good enough for now. 

 

There was a cute guy on third shift who she was friendly with awhile back.  He met her for caf and they chatted a few times.  But he must have lost interest and then he sort of disappeared.  So far no one else has caught her eye.   Maybe in time, she thinks.  Rey still wants a family.  And if there is no family to claim her, then she will make a family of her own to love.  One day she’ll meet a good guy and they will settle down and build a life together.  Maybe have some kids.  But she’s still waiting for all that.  And, well, Rey of Jakku is very good at waiting.  There’s no rush.

 

Things were going just fine on Dantooine until half an hour before the end of her shift when a bunch of black armored First Order shock troopers flooded through every factory exit.  In all, twenty men came for her.  Rey was face down on the floor in handcuffs before she knew it.  Her horrified supervisor called after her as she was hustled out:  “Is there someone I should call?”  Rey shook her head.  Because as usual, at every crisis moment of her life she has been alone.  Loneliness is her lot in life.

 

They never ask her any questions.  They never give her any formal charge.  She never sees a judge.  She just boards a heavily armed shuttle for a long ride to Coruscant.  And that leads her to this moment.  Rey is marched forward shackled hand and foot into a fancy throne room that can only belong to one man. 

 

Sure enough, there is the fallen Skywalker prince seated on his high throne.  He has his helmet on.  She can’t see his face.  Rey remembers the first time she saw his face.  She had been startled by the openness of his expression beneath the mask.  Kylo Ren turned out to be young and disarmingly attractive, not at all the deformed monster who would merit covering.  But soon, Rey would learn that even handsome princes can be monsters.   The mask this man wears doesn’t hide his true self, Rey now knows.  It reflects who Kylo Ren truly is. 

 

Looking around, she sees how sparse the room is.  Maybe it is supposed to appear elegant, but she finds the effect cold.  This is a space that is decorated mostly with guards, after all.  Rey sizes it up, taking in the giant red and black banner of the First Order that hangs as a focal point over the high chair. “Where are the red curtains?” she wonders aloud as she is unceremoniously shoved to her knees.  “This place needs the Snoke touch,” she indulges in a little snark.

 

“Shut up, woman!” the guard at her right growls.  Then, he snaps to attention and presents her to the Supreme Leader himself.

 

“The Resistance girl from Dantooine, Sir.”

 

“Uncuff her,” Kylo Ren orders. 

 

While the guards do his bidding, Rey shoots him a look.  “Where’s the sparkly golden bathrobe?   You look underdressed for that seat.  Or maybe you’re overdressed,” she reconsiders.  “I’m not sure . . .”

 

“Hello Rey,” Kylo purrs from behind his mask.

 

“What do you want?”  Resentment drips from her words.

 

“Did you miss me?”

 

Is that a real question?  She responds with an emphatic “no.”

 

That answer somehow pleases him.  “I like that you’re not afraid of me,” he observes.  And, it’s true.  Rey is far less afraid at this moment than she is annoyed.   Truthfully, this guy gets under her skin.  She has very mixed emotions about Kylo Ren.  Lots of anger, tons of disappointment, some regret, and a surprising amount of pity.  It’s complicated between them, and always has been.

 

“I thought I was done with you.  It’s been—“ she pauses to think.

 

“Two years and three months,” he readily supplies the answer.  “Why haven’t you done anything with your life?”

 

“I have a life.”

 

“Dantooine seems a bit dull for you.  Quality control at a droid factory?”

 

She shrugs.  “It’s an okay job.”

 

“Really?  For a woman of your talents?”  He is mocking her.  “I hear you have worked your way up to night shift supervisor.  Maybe in another two years you’ll get promoted to the day shift.   In thirty years, maybe you’ll earn a pension and you can retire to a wreck on Jakku—“

 

“Why am I here?” she interrupts.  It’s a bit rude and probably disrespectful too, but Rey is direct by nature.  Growing up on Jakku taught her to get to the point fast.  She’s never been one for small talk and social niceties.     

 

Kylo sits forward in his chair.  “Don’t be a stranger, Rey.  Like I told you, you have an open offer to join me.  I can give you much more than the droid factory.”

 

“No, thanks.”

 

“You are not acting in your own self-interest,” he observes. 

 

“Actually, I am. Staying far away from you is the safest choice I can make,” Rey informs him.   “Everyone I have ever cared for is dead thanks to you.” That last bit comes out a bit choked at the end.  Truthfully, Rey tries not to look back on those moments because they are so painful to relive. 

 

Naturally, Kylo Ren has no remorse.  “Let the past die. Move on.”

 

“I have,” she snaps.  “I’m not saving the galaxy or learning the Force. And I’m damn sure not saving you.”  

 

“I liked you saving my soul,” Kylo says softly.  And was that sarcasm or not?  Rey is unsure.  “You didn’t come to kill me, you came to be killed.  My uncle would have been proud.”

 

Actually, Luke Skywalker told her not to go. But Rey keeps her silence.  The less said about their confrontation on Snoke’s ship, the better.

 

“So . . . you’re making droids.  Is that your vocation now?”

 

Rey lifts her chin.  “Yes.”

 

“You could be so much more.”

 

“No, not really.  I have no education.  I have no degree and no credentials.  But the droid factory is steady work and it pays the bills.”  Rey is defensive and it shows.  But she decides to own who she is.  “I work with my hands and I am unashamed of that.  Did you drag me here just to make fun of me?” she demands.  “Because I really don’t care what you think.”

 

“I have an offer for you.”

 

“I already told you no.”

 

“This is a new offer.”

 

“I won’t be your Apprentice.”

 

“I want you to be a Senator.”

 

Rey blinks.  She didn’t see that pitch coming.  “A politician?   No, thanks.  I’m not joining the First Order party.  I was Resistance until the end, remember?”

 

“That’s why I want you as a Senator,” he tells her cryptically. 

 

What’s his angle on all this?  Well, it doesn’t really matter.  “Dantooine already had its election.  Your offer is a bit late.”

 

“I’m the Supreme Leader.  I can’t be too late.  I am appointing you to the Senate as an At Large member from the Rim.”

 

“So, no election?”

 

Rey can sense his smirk behind the mask.  “I’m not much for democracy.”

 

“Which is why I really don’t belong in your sham of a Senate with its gerrymandered elections,” she retorts.  “Am I supposed to be some sort of token opposition?  Is that it?”

 

“Basically.”

 

Rey’s tone is scathing.  “I won’t be your pawn.”

 

“I don’t want you for a pawn. I have a Senate full of pawns already. I want you for a foe.”

 

Huh?  Rey still finds this offer befuddling.  That makes her suspicious. Why go to all the trouble to destroy the Resistance if you’re just going to appoint its members to your Senate?  She scowls at Kylo.  “Look, I’m done saving the galaxy.  You won.  Do what you want.  But don’t expect me to help you.”

 

“I want you for a foe,” he repeats.

 

“No, thanks.”

 

“This is an offer you can’t refuse,” he warns.

 

Rey cocks her head and raises an eyebrow.  “Oh, so you’re gonna kill me if I won’t serve in your Senate?”

 

“No, I’m going to kill someone else.”  Kylo turns to some official looking guy in a uniform standing nearby.  “Bring the children in.”

 

That doesn’t sound good, Rey thinks with a gulp.  And now forty kids in school uniforms are led in by their silent, stone faced teachers and chaperones. 

 

“What is this?” Rey demands, looking from the school group to Kylo Ren and back again.

 

“These are second graders who have a class field trip to the palace today.  They were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

 

Rey turns outraged eyes on him.  “You wouldn’t dare—"

 

“Of course, I would.”  As if to prove his point, Kylo abruptly stands and lights his sword as he jumps down from the dais.  Grabbing the nearest child, he turns to Rey.  “Shall I start with this one?   She looks like a little version of you.  It’s sort of fitting.” 

 

“No!   Stop!” Rey instantly objects.  “Stop!”

 

“You have reconsidered?” Kylo asks as the little girl quakes and squirms in his grip.   The crackling buzz of his sword is the only sound in the room for a long moment as everyone holds their breath.  “Well?” Kylo prompts.

 

Rey starts bargaining.  It’s an old habit from Jakku.  “What do I have to do as Senator?”

 

“You would live here on Coruscant and participate in all legislative proceedings.  Probably sit on a few committees and task forces.  Make speeches.  Meet with lobbyists.  Schmooze.   That sort of thing.” 

 

That sounds like Hell for an introvert like herself who gets anxious in social situations and is self-conscious about her lack of formal schooling.  Rey sort of shrinks now as she says in a small voice.  “I can’t do any of that.  I’m not qualified to do that.”

 

“Who cares?  Now, if that’s your final answer, let’s get to it.”  Kylo raises his sword above the terrified child’s head. 

 

“No! No! Stop!” Rey rushes over to intervene.  The guards who escorted her in hasten to tackle her, but Rey throws them away with the Force.  It’s an automatic gesture, made without thinking.  For the Force never deserts Rey when she needs it most.  And now again, she can sense Kylo’s smirk behind the mask. 

 

“Yes?”  Kylo asks as he waves away the guards who stalk over with weapons drawn.

 

“I’ll do it,” Rey answers quickly as she stares into the silently pleading face of the captive little girl. 

 

Kylo’s response is downright smug.  “That was easy.”  He deactivates his sword and releases the child.  Then, he dismisses the entire school group.  Turning back to the man in uniform standing nearby, Kylo orders, “Administer the oath.” 

 

“Raise your right hand,” Kylo’s minion instructs as he steps forward and pulls out a datapad to read from.

 

“Er . . . what?”  Confused, Rey looks to Kylo. 

 

“It’s your loyalty oath,” he explains.  “You are being sworn into my Senate.”

 

“Right now?”

 

“Yes.   After you are sworn in, this man will take you to the Chancellor’s Chief of Staff.  He will tell you what you need to know.”  Kylo commands again, “Administer the oath.” 

 

“This is a mistake,” Rey tells him between gritted teeth.   

 

“Maybe,” Kylo allows, “but it will improve your resume considerably.”

 

“Repeat after me please,” Kylo’s henchmen speaks up.  “I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Second Galactic Empire against all enemies, foreign and domestic . . . ”

 

“I used to be your enemy,” she hisses at Kylo.

 

“Shall I fetch the children again?” he asks innocently.  It’s a not so subtle threat.  These are the sort of stunts that make capricious Kylo Ren notorious. 

 

With a rattled sigh, indignant Rey says the words.  Then, Kylo’s flunkey continues his prompting.  “That I will bear true faith and allegiance to our beloved Supreme Leader Kylo Ren . . .”

 

Those words in particular stick in her throat.  She hesitates.

 

“What was that, Rey?” Kylo snickers.  “I can’t hear you.”  Clearly, he’s enjoying this little scene immensely. 

 

“That I will bear true faith and allegiance to Supreme Leader Kylo Ren,” Rey edits a bit while she glares.

 

“That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion . . . “

 

“Does coercion count?” Rey wonders aloud.

 

“No,” Kylo responds gleefully.  “Say the words.”

 

She does.

 

“And that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of Senator of the Imperial Senate,” the flunkey concludes.

 

With marked lack of enthusiasm, Rey completes the oath.

 

“There.  Now you are the youngest member of my Senate,” Kylo decrees, sounding very pleased.  “Go forth and make seditious speeches, Rey.  You’re my new Mon Mothma.”

 

“You mean Leia Organa,” she corrects.  And that might be a low blow, but he deserves it.

 

“No, that’s too weird,” Kylo grumbles.  “Way too weird.  You’re nothing like her.”  He drops that topic and now begins making threats.  “To be clear, you serve at my pleasure, but your appointment is otherwise for life.   Should you shirk your duties or attempt to run away, there will be consequences.  Meaning I will vent my anger on whatever batch of kids are here touring my palace that day.”

 

Rey is furious at having been kidnapped and manipulated in this fashion.  “You’re a petty monster!” she rages. 

 

He shrugs.  “You knew that already.”  Then, he drops the sarcasm and suddenly sounds very sincere.  “It’s good to see you, Rey.  I think this will be good for you.  You’re capable of far more than you realize and you’re in a rut on Dantooine.  I think you might like this once you get used to it.”

 

“I highly doubt that,” she retorts acidly.   “I’m now a prisoner of your Senate with a life sentence, right?”

 

“No,” he counters.  “You are free to live your life so long as you do your job.  This is the bright center of the universe, Rey.  Coruscant beats Dantooine any day and it’s a big step up from Jakku.”

 

“Why are you doing this?”  After two years, why has this man walked back into her life in such a dramatic fashion?

 

“Balance,” he answers.  “When Darkness rises, Light must meet it.”

 

“I’m not the Light.  I’ve given up on the Force,” she gripes.

 

“You threw my men around easily enough,” he points out.  “If you’re rusty, it doesn’t show.”

 

“I’m not the Light.  Not anymore.”  Rey gave up all that two years and three months ago.  Like Luke Skywalker sulking on his island, Rey has conceded.  It’s a lesson she originally learned back on Jakku:  don’t pick fights you can’t win.  “Find someone else,” she disavows her role, “because I’m not the Light.”

 

“Of course, you are,” Kylo counters.  “If you weren’t, that little girl would be dead.”  He steps closer now.  He is surprisingly empathetic.  “You can’t help being who you are any more than I can, Rey.  So stop fighting it.  Congratulations, Senator,” he tells her.  “Welcome to the regime.  You are dismissed to go make all the trouble you want.”

 

“You actually want me to publicly oppose you?” Rey is still confused.

 

He nods.  “Bring it on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time travel is a relatively new concept to Star Wars, but I’m not making this up—the World Between Worlds is current SW canon. It made its first appearance in a multi-episode plotline at the end of the Rebels cartoon my boys watch (Darth Sidious searches for portals to enter the World Between Worlds, and the good guys find one in a Jedi temple on a besieged world). Think this is a one-off? It’s not. On Rebels, you access the portal in the Jedi Temple through a painting of the Mortis family characters from the Clone Wars cartoon. And every hard-core SW fan knows that George Lucas himself did the whole Mortis story arc from Clone Wars. But is it just a Dave Filoni self-reference, you ask? Nope. The World Between Worlds also apparently appears in a new Darth Vader comic book (Lord Vader is trying to construct a portal to the World Between Worlds at his Mustafar castle so he can use it to see Padme). 
> 
> Now, there’s always been plenty of EU Legends craziness going on and I am by no means an expert on it all. Plus, I’ll be honest--when the World Between Worlds concept first appeared in Rebels I was not a fan. It just seemed like a convenient plot device, sort of like the Force bond idea. But then I thought about it not as a means to control or change things in the current reality, but merely as a way to escape it. I am struck by the concept of sad, still conflicted Darth Vader building a tuning fork shaped castle to focus the Force and find his lost love. Just like lonely Kylo Ren goes into the Force looking for company and advice. These men can have any earthly possession they want. But, naturally, they want the things credits cannot buy and power cannot achieve. This is the yearning that Dark power cannot fulfill and the isolation it tends to amplify. In my AU, I’m assuming Vader did construct a portal at his Mustafar castle and his grandson Kylo has found it.
> 
> The point is that this story continues my goal to do in-universe fan fiction. Wherever possible, I like to stay in canon. I just prefer to look at the SW canon from the Dark point of view and that can dramatically shift the meaning of characters and events. Point of view matters. Whether it’s politics, race, gender, class, religion, whatever—we all view and experience the world differently. Those competing viewpoints—which are often rational and sincerely held—explain a lot of the conflicts in life. It’s why right/wrong arguments fail to persuade me personally for all but the mortal sins of life. 
> 
> Separately, I should apologize in advance for this totally unplanned, off the cuff story. Normally, I never start a story unless I have a general sense of where the characters are going and why. A few stories (Fulcrum, Darker) were reverse engineered and the ending was written first. Not this fic. I have nothing, folks. No clue except a few vague thoughts here and there. But I write for stress release and I really need that currently. Mr. Blue was in an accident days ago and now has a right leg broken in five places. That has turned our life upside down and so I find myself reflexively reaching for my phone to type out random story bits. Right now, escaping into Reylo is more appealing than dealing with reality. So bear with me if this fic appears in fits and starts. If it truly meanders nowhere, I will just delete it. So please lower your expectations. I was going to start this story under a pseudonym just to make it easy to disappear. But creating multiple accounts got tricky and takes time and I gave up. Please lower your expectations for this one.


	3. Chapter 3

She’s a Senator.  It’s almost like a bad joke.  Like Kylo Ren is pranking democracy.  Rey is woefully unqualified and completely unprepared for this new position.  So when she is shown into her new empty office in the giant Senate complex, the woman waiting there takes one look at Rey’s steel toe boots and droid factory jumpsuit and assumes she’s responding to a work order. 

 

“Oh, good.  We could use some tech help. Let’s get a droid in here and get this office online and up and running.  We have a new Senator being sworn in this week.”

 

Kylo’s flunkey who escorted her here takes this opportunity to reveal, “This is the new Senator.”

 

“Uhm.  Oh.  Of course.”  The woman recovers fast.   “My mistake.”

 

“This wasn’t my idea,” Rey complains.   She’s still reeling from this unexpected turn of events and rattled by her confrontation with Kylo Ren.   “I don’t want to be a Senator,” she announces.

 

“Oh dear,” the woman sighs, looking both perturbed and perplexed.

 

Kylo’s man starts issuing orders.  He’s impatient to be away.  “Get her set up, will you?  Lend her some staff and tell her where to go and what to do.  The Leader is involved in this matter personally, so look sharp.  Here.”  He hands Rey a credit card.  “Find an apartment somewhere and make yourself look respectable. You can’t show up here looking like that.”

 

Rey blinks at the impressive sum on the credit card while the man and woman begin bickering over tasks and turf.  No one wants to deal with her apparently.  She’s just another of the Supreme Leader’s whims.

 

“There you are,” a third voice joins in and Rey looks up to see none other than General—no, now Chancellor—Hux stride in swiftly.  Even the way this man walks looks uptight.  Thankfully, his attention is all for the woman who is apparently one of his staffers.   “I need your help on the—wait what is this?”  Hux does a double take at Rey.

 

“Chancellor, this is—“

 

“I know who she is,” Hux interrupts with patrician disdain.  “I recognize her.”  He marches over to stare down Rey with contempt.  “I remember chasing you across the galaxy.  She’s the scavenger who had the map to Luke Skywalker.  She’s the Resistance terrorist who murdered Snoke!”

 

“Oh.”  The woman staffer looks horrified and takes a long, fearful step back.  “You did that??”

 

“Wow.”  Kylo’s man looks impressed.

 

“Ren pardoned her for it and let her go at the end of the war,” Hux answers the question on everyone’s mind.  “What is she doing here?”

 

“She is the new Senator at Large from the Rim,” Kylo’s man answers.

 

“This is the first I’ve heard of the appointment.  On whose authority?” Hux demands.

 

“Ren.”

 

“It figures.”  The Senate Chancellor shoots her a scathing glare.  “You should be in a cell somewhere, not in my Senate.”

 

“This wasn’t my idea,” Rey gripes.  This whole Senate thing keeps getting worse, she thinks.

 

“Chancellor, the Supreme Leader thought it best for her office to be next door to yours.  For your oversight and supervision, of course,” Kylo’s man inserts smoothly.  “The Leader expects your cooperation in this matter,” the man makes a veiled threat.

 

Hux frowns.  “How are we going to explain her?”

 

“Any way you wish, Chancellor, but she is a lifetime appointment serving at the Leader’s discretion.”

 

Hux all but rolls his eyes.  But he defers as well. “Finish with her and find me,” he orders to his staffer.  “And be quick about it.”

 

When two hours later Rey finally breaks free of her minders, she gives serious thought to making a run for it. She could blow the credit card she’s been given on a one-way ticket to nowhere and take her chances that Kylo’s goons won’t find her.  It’s tempting.  Really tempting.  But living her life on the run worries Rey for the future.   Because she will inevitably drag people around her down if she eventually gets caught. And that could have deadly consequences.  Kylo Ren’s capricious cruelty is legendary.   Rey takes his threat to harm others if she flees very seriously. 

 

So Rey decides to play along, at least for now.  She spends the next two days setting up a new life on Coruscant.  Her first day is devoted to finding an apartment.  This Core urban city world is very expensive.   Unfortunately, the credits she has been given don’t go as far as she hopes.  Rey ends up renting an overpriced furnished studio apartment on the Lower Level.  Well, really it’s more like the uppermost reaches of the infamous Coruscant Underworld.  But whatever.  It’s not posh, but it’s affordable and available and only a one block walk from the nearest transport stop.  Rey’s not too proud to live modestly.  This is luxury compared to how she lived on Jakku.

 

Rey fills the apartment with a stockpile of basic necessities, taking care to make sure she has plenty of nonperishable food and water on hand.  The habits of Jakku have persisted years after she relocated to Dantooine.  Having some extra supplies still makes Rey feel secure.  Some part of her will never get over the frequent brushes with starvation and dehydration she had on Jakku. 

 

The next day, Rey turns her attention to her wardrobe.  What do female Senators wear?   Rey has no idea, so she surfs the holonet.  Yep, it’s as she feared.   Dresses.  She sees lots of pictures of Senators in dresses.  A little miffed and a little resigned, Rey marches into a discount store and tells the saleslady she needs to buy clothes for her new job at the Senate. Naturally, the woman assumes Rey is an intern.  But she is helpful, and Rey exits with a few complete outfits.  They are a colorful mix of versatile separates plus one long scarlet day dress off the sale rack that the saleslady assures her is ‘very First Order.’  It’s all a far cry from the flame-retardant jumpsuit she is currently sporting.   Like everything else about this Senate experience, the fancy clothes are way out of Rey’s comfort zone.  Heretofore, she has dressed with an eye for comfort and practicality.  But that clearly won’t cut it here in the epicenter of the galactic fashion.

 

She also buys a reconditioned basic grooming droid from a secondhand shop around the corner.  It gives Rey a much-needed hair trim and her first ever manicure.  On a whim, she even splurges on some lipstick.  None of the human ladies of the Senate she saw on the holonet appeared bare faced on camera, so Rey decides she too will venture into a little makeup.

 

Then, on the third day, Rey gets dressed and heads for the office. 

 

What do Senators actually do?   As far as she can tell, they attend a lot of meetings and entertain constituents and lobbyists.  Rey isn’t sure how any of that translates to her position, since she’s not elected. But first things first, the lady from Chancellor Hux’s office informs her. You must be introduced to your colleagues.  Your legislative career begins with a speech before the assembly in the Senate rotunda.  

 

Yikes, Rey thinks to herself.  

 

When the Senate next convenes tomorrow, Rey will be presented as the newest member and asked to say a few words.  It should be an easy task for a seasoned politician with a polished campaign speech, but it feels like an insurmountable challenge for Rey.

 

Courage is surprisingly situational, she discovers.  Confidence depends a lot on where you are and what you are doing.  It doesn’t translate equally to all situations.  Take someone out of their normal setting and routine, and watch them flail a little.  That’s why Rey is petrified at the prospect of speaking in public when she never gave a second thought to confronting dangerous ruffians back on Jakku. 

 

Time for a personal pep talk, she decides.  Rey reminds herself that she faced down Kylo Ren and Snoke.  Hell, she once pulled a sword on Luke Skywalker himself.   She can do this.  If she can gun down TIEs over Crait and watch her friends murdered before her eyes, she can do this.  In fact, maybe she owes it to all her fallen friends to do this.  Because maybe this is a stunt by Kylo Ren, but it also could be an opportunity. 

 

So Rey summons her resolve and sits down with a datapad to write her first ever speech. But . . . it’s hard.  Rey spends all afternoon staring at her datapad, typing out some ideas.  She finally sends her small staff home for the day as she continues staring aimlessly at her lackluster speech draft.  Rey feels stumped on what to say, and that is adding to her anxiety about her first public introduction as a Senator.

 

“Working late?”  The nasal patrician tones of Chancellor Hux interrupt her thoughts.  “I guess I should praise your diligence,” he decides from the doorway.  Without waiting to be asked in, the imperious former General marches right into Rey’s private office.  He looks around at the blank walls and empty desk and sniffs.  “I was hoping to knock down that adjoining wall and claim this space for a new conference room.  But then you came along.”

 

Rey makes no response.  She just eyes Starkiller Hux silently.  He is the face of the First Order military elite and a very unlikely person to shepherd the Second Empire’s fledgling Senate.  But that probably made him the perfect choice, since it assuaged any fears the First Order hardliners might have that Kylo Ren was bringing back the Republic.  Silly girls on the holonet might swoon over his good looks, but Rey can only think of this man as a war criminal who gleefully committed genocide of billions.  She automatically dislikes him.  And judging by his reaction to her this morning, the feeling is mutual.

 

“What are you doing, anyway?” Hux demands.  This man has icy blue eyes that miss nothing as they sweep over her.  “What could you possibly have to work late on yet?”

 

Frustrated Rey admits to the truth.  “I’m supposed to give a speech tomorrow.  I don’t suppose you have any speech writers around here I could use?”

 

Armitage Hux is the famous orator of the First Order, known as much for his angry bombast as for his meticulous enunciation. He bristles at her question.  “I write my own speeches.  Everyone knows that.”     

 

“Oh.  Right.”  Well, it was worth a shot, Rey thinks.  She sheepishly now asks, “Got any tips for me?  I’m stuck.   Really stuck.  I’ve never given a speech before.”

 

“Why should I help you?” Hux retorts.  And is this guy always so prickly, or is he just like this for her?

 

Rey thinks a moment for how to convince him to assist.  “Because if I demean the dignity of your Senate, we both look bad.  Everyone thinks this place is a farce as is.”  

 

He frowns.  “What is the speech about?”

 

“You are introducing me to the assembly as a new Senator.  I’m supposed to make a short speech about who I am and why I’m here.”

 

“Oh, right.  Every Senator does that.  What’s so hard about that?”

 

“Well, I don’t exactly have a great story to tell.  And I’ve never done any public speaking.  This is all very new to me.”  Beleaguered Rey is way out of her comfort zone.  And here she is, asking the man who supervised the massacre of the Resistance for help.  Politics truly does make strange bedfellows.  “You’re the expert, right?” she appeals.

 

That turns out to be an appeal that strokes his ego.  Know-it-all Hux thaws a bit.  “The best orators speak from the heart.  They give voice to people’s hopes and dreams.   They say the things that others fear to say or cannot put into words.”

 

“Okay . . . “  Rey nods along but that advice is pretty vague to her.  She needs concrete input.  This feels a little like Luke Skywalker telling her to ‘reach out.’

 

“Let’s see what you have.”  The Chancellor plucks up the datapad that is lying in front of her.  He reads aloud, “Hello my name is Rey and I’m from Dantooine.”  He snorts and smirks.  “Does it get better? Tell me it gets better.”  He keeps scanning her draft.  “No . . . it doesn’t,” he decides.  Hux turns back to her.  “Gods, this is awful.   You really do need help,” he is blunt. 

 

“Yes.”   That’s what she’s been trying to tell him.

 

“Why are you here exactly?” he quizzes her.

 

“Ask your boss.”

 

“Why did Ren say you are here?”

 

“To be his foe.  He wants some public opposition.  That’s why he appointed me to the Senate.  For balance.”

 

“Why?”  Hux appears as befuddled as she is.  “We have enough skeptics and haters already.  Why add you to the mix?“

 

Rey shrugs.  “I don’t know.  Ask him.”

 

“This is all very Ren,” Hux gripes.  “Our Supreme Leader gets distracted easily.”

 

Rey sighs.  “I wish I could go home to Dantooine.”

 

“Me too,” commiserates snippy Hux.  “Then, I could get my conference room.”  He looks again at her draft text on the datapad.  “This is not the way to introduce a worthy opponent to the First Order.  It’s sort of pathetic.   This intro belongs to some back bencher from a nowhere sand world the Separatists would turn their nose up at.”

 

Ouch.  It’s worse than she thought.  “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

 

“Actually, I was being kind.   Leia Organa is rolling over in her grave somewhere at these weak words.   That old gal was quite the firebrand in her day.  This speech is nothing like her tradition of rebel dissent.  She and Mon Mothma would never have formed the Alliance with ‘Hello my name is Leia from Alderaan.’”

 

“Okay,” Rey concedes.  “Well, pretend you are me—“

 

“I would never be you.”

 

“Pretend you are me and you hate Kylo Ren and you want to make a big impression as his political foe.  How would you start?”

 

Hux shoots her a withering glance.  “I can’t begin to fathom how you liberal revolutionaries think.”

 

Everything Hux says has some bite to it, Rey is learning.  But no matter how tempting it is to tell this guy off, she needs his help.  “Sure, you can,” she cajoles.  “If you try.”

 

He muses a moment.  Then he starts spouting off words.  “This Senate is a sham of democracy run by an incompetent villain,” he thinks aloud.  “How’s that for an opener?  Start with an accusation and a smear.  It’s what I always like to do.”

 

Rey nods.  “Keep going.”

 

Hux muses some more before he begins again.  “But there are still those of us who heed the call of liberty.  We take up the cause of the Resistance and the mantle of the Rebellion gone before it, continuing the decades long struggle to restore freedom to the galaxy.”  Hux slants her a glance.  “That is what you want, right?   A return to the halcyon days of the Old Republic with all that disorder and infighting.  And the incompetent decentralized management that led to a civil war?”

 

“Er . . . yes.  Keep going.”  Rey is furiously taking this down on the datapad.  It’s weird how quickly this man morphs into his own opposition.  He’s playacting, obviously.  But it’s disconcerting how effortless it seems.   Is it because Chancellor Hux is a showman at heart and can play any role?   Or is it because his allegiance is not to his cause but to power, and so even the First Order rhetoric that he spouts is not heartfelt?  

 

“Let’s see . . . “ Hux thinks some more before deciding, “You need to be dramatic.  Really emote.  Crazies are always overly dramatic and righteous.   It’s all in the delivery,” he tells her without a trace of irony.

 

“So something about Hosnia?” she suggests with a forced straight face.

 

“Yes.”  Hux now starts to proclaim in ringing tones, “The lives lost to the hubris of Kylo Ren and his First Order shall not be in vain.  Hosnia shall not be in vain.   I stand before you but one voice, but I stand firm.  Government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from this galaxy.”

 

“Oooh, I like that last bit,” Rey smiles happily as she types away.

 

“I thought you would,” Hux smirks.

 

“Shouldn’t I say my name?”

 

“Of course, not,” the young Chancellor dismisses the idea outright.  “The goal is to make an impression and then everyone will want to know who you are.  Once you state this manifesto, people will be asking for your name.   That’s much better than telling them outright.  ‘Hi, I’m Rey the fugitive extremist’ just doesn’t have the same splash.”

 

“Oh, okay,” she sees the strategy here.  “But I was slotted for ten minutes.  That will take me only a minute to say.”

 

“It’s enough.  Make an impact and then sit down. Leave the other nine minutes for the catcalls and booing.  You’re not going to get a friendly crowd,” he warns.

 

“Oh.  I hadn’t thought of that.”

 

“Succinct is better for media coverage,” he counsels.  “You need to talk in sound bites that the newsfeeds can easily edit.  People get bored if they have to listen and decide something for themselves.   It’s best just to tell them what to think,” Hux rationalizes.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Did you get it all?” he asks.

 

“I think so.  Here—check for me.”  Rey hands over the datapad.  And now, she can’t help herself.  She cheekily tells Hux, “You know, you would make a pretty good foe for Ren yourself.   Care to found the new Resistance with me?  You could be our general.”

 

“I am choosing to ignore that very offensive remark,” the Chancellor slants her a look of reproach, “as well as the treason it suggests.”

 

“Treason is apparently my new job,” she tells him blithely.  “And that bit about liberty rolled off your tongue very easily,” she observes.

 

“It’s just words,” Hux shrugs.  And that is Rey’s first lesson in politics in the post-truth, alternative facts, fake news era of the First Order.  Meaning is malleable to these guys.  Talk is definitely cheap.

 

“Well, that’s all the time I have to waste with you,” Hux decides.  “Practice it some so you don’t freeze up when the moment comes.  You can’t be a convincing firebrand if you’re tentative.”

 

“Er . . . thanks, Chancellor,” Rey calls after his fast retreating form.  “Good night,” she tries to be polite.

 

Hux pauses and turns.  “Are you really bold enough to pull this off?” he challenges.  “Because once you say these words, you cannot take them back.  You’ll forever be our Senate troll.  Ren’s token crazy Rim girl.”

 

Rey lifts her chin.  “I killed Snoke, didn’t I?” she reminds him of his earlier misconception.

 

“We all know Ren did that.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Hux squints at Rey and considers her anew.  “Having you around might liven things up.  But if you are going to do this, you should look like a lawmaker.  Not like an intern.”

 

Rey flushes.  She looks down at her culottes, tall boots, and jacket she had heretofore considered very smart.  But apparently, yet again she has missed the mark.  “Right.”

 

“Visuals matter.  You are entirely too cute like that, Senator.  You need to look serious for people to take you seriously.  Think gravitas,” Hux counsels as he nods regally and disappears in a sweep of handsome dark colored robes and rigorously coiffed red hair.

 

Rey takes that advice.  She shows up the next day wearing her one fancy day dress with her hair neatly pulled back with her new lipstick on.  It’s a modest, almost severe look that helps to make her look older, she hopes.   Certainly, it’s the most elegant and mature she has ever looked in her life.  No one back on Jakku would recognize her now.

 

Rey has nervous butterflies all morning until it’s her time to speak.  She waits for the Chancellor to acknowledge her and then she gives her bold, impassioned remarks.  It’s just like she practiced last night.  When she concludes, you could hear a pin drop in the giant Senate chamber.  Everyone reacts with stunned disapproval for a moment before they make their displeasure known.   The boos and catcalls are deafening.

 

Hux lets it go on and on before he slams his gavel and makes a halfhearted attempt at regaining order.   And is it her imagination, or did Armitage Hux just wink at her?  Rey is not sure because there’s so much going on in the moment.

 

The assembly’s reaction is what she expected, but experiencing it firsthand is still deflating.  Things are not off to a good start.  She’s just not cut out for this Senator gig.  Afterward that resounding rejection, Rey retires to her office to brood.  She always needs to be by herself when she’s upset.  Putting aside the misfire on her speech, there is a lot of unexpected, unplanned change for her to process right now.  Plus, there is the ongoing drama that is Kylo Ren.   Rey is certain that she hasn’t seen the last of him. 

 

Rey hides in her office alone until the day is done, opting to skip all three of the lobbyist cocktail events her new assistant has scheduled her to make an appearance at.  She’s just not up for that sort of thing today of all days.   She also studiously avoids all media.  She’s afraid to see if her speech garnered any attention.  The Senate halls are quiet when Rey finally peeks out.  It’s late enough now that it looks safe to venture forth.  Putting her head down, Rey walks briskly to the waiting elevator to duck inside.  She’s hoping to sneak out without encountering any more controversy. 

 

Unfortunately, the elevator is not empty like she had hoped.  Chancellor Hux is in there with his aides.  The man never goes anywhere without an entourage parading behind him, she’s noticed.

 

“Senator,” he nods at Rey formally.

 

“Chancellor,” she nods back, doing her best to emulate his glacial dignity. 

 

When the door opens at the next stop, Hux’s crew gets off.  As Rey steps aside for them to move past, the Chancellor tells her under his breath, “Well done, scavenger” and then continues on.

 

It’s perplexing and surprising, especially from this man, but that’s the atta girl she desperately needs right now. Rey has a new spring in her step as she marches out of the Senate complex. She walks a few blocks to where she catches the public transport.  Two transfers and half an hour later, she’s walking into her cramped Underworld apartment.   It’s nothing special, but it’s home, sweet home right now. 

 

Immediately, Rey starts pulling pins from her tight hair and yanking off her fancy dress.  She’s had enough of playing Senator for one day.  Back in a comfortable t-shirt and pants, relieved Rey feels much more like her usual self.  That’s when she turns around and realizes that she is not alone. 

 

A tall man is watching her from the adjoining kitchen.  It’s Kylo Ren.  He’s completely out of uniform and without his mask.  But with his ever-present sword strapped to his waist.

 

Rey shrieks in surprise. “You!” 

 

Has he been there the whole time?

 

“Hello, Rey,” he smiles. 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

He tells himself to wait a week before he sees Rey again.   But who is he kidding?   He holds out only three days.  Self-control has always been an issue for him.  Besides, he needs to see this Underworld studio apartment the intel guys tell him she has rented.  Couldn’t Rey do better than that?  Geez that was Jakku of her.

 

Ditching his uniform for decidedly non-black, non-remarkable civilian attire and sporting the beginnings of his new beard to complete the disguise, Kylo sneaks out of his own palace and hotwires the first decent parked speeder he finds.  Then he nosedives down the express lanes at breakneck speed to Coruscant’s Lower Levels. 

 

His capital world has long had the moniker the Eternal City.  It is the bright center of the universe, the home to the Core elite for millennia.  But even Coruscant is stratified.  On this world, your elevation indicates your status.  The sleek and clean Upper Levels are home to the wealthy ruling class.  Here is where to find the wide pedestrian esplanades, the shopping district full of exclusive boutiques, the opera and the fashionable see-and-be-seen nightclubs, and the Senate complex and adjacent Imperial Palace.  Here the sky is grey-blue and the air is crisp and clean.  Farther down, the crowded, progressively dim Middle Levels house the work-a-day folks who raise families and pay taxes.  Here are the sprawling office buildings where lawyers, accountants, bankers, consultants, creative types and other professionals toil at their craft.  They make the decisions, conceive the ideas, and start the trends that resonate across the galaxy.  Farther down still are the always dark, grim Lower Levels that the working poor call home.  These people live one precarious step ahead of disaster. It’s not a place anyone affirmatively chooses to reside, especially not a Senator.  So, it’s an odd choice for Rey.

 

There is nothing down here to brag about, Kylo thinks as he approaches the coordinates of her new apartment.  The air is thick with the stench of rotting garbage and the acrid smell of exhaust from a million transports filtering down from the levels above.  The streets are trash filled and some of the buildings are so old that they appear to be crumbling in places.  The Lower Levels aren’t quite the criminal Coruscant Underworld. That's even closer to the surface.  But this place somehow seems even less appealing.  The Underworld has a certain seedy glamour and at least the promise of a good time.  Not like this joyless place. 

 

Trying to keep an open mind, Kylo breaks into Rey’s apartment and waits.  An hour later, she bursts in and immediately starts undressing.  Today is his lucky day apparently.  Except Rey stomps out of view just as she whips her elegant red dress over her head.  When she reappears she’s yanking down a t-shirt.  He doesn’t get to see more than the faintest flash of skin.  And that’s when she catches sight of him. 

 

“Hello Rey,” Kylo begins.  His blood is already pumping.  This is the adrenaline effect Rey has on him.  Just being around her makes him nervous in a good way. 

 

“YOU!” she shrieks.  “Y-You can’t just walk in here—" she immediately starts unloading her outrage.

 

He cuts her off.  “Sure, I can.  I wanted to see you.  How are you?  How’s the Senate?” 

 

“Who do you think you are??” Rey rages.  “You’re like some creepy stalker!”

 

He doesn’t deny it.  “I wanted to see you.”

 

“And that stunt you pulled the other day terrified that little girl!” Rey now starts in on their reunion in his throne room.  And, admittedly, it wasn’t his smoothest moment. 

 

But Kylo brushes it off.  “It worked.  And she’s fine.”  Quickly, he changes the topic.  He didn’t come here to fight.  Fighting is for when they are in public.  Not when they are alone together.  “I liked your speech.  Rey, it was perfect.  Perfect for the occasion and perfectly you.  Thank you.”

 

He’s sincere but she’s unimpressed.  “Those were just words.   That’s not me anymore.”

 

“Why not?”  He hates that the fight has gone out of Rey.  Well, the fight for everything except him.  She’s still plenty ready to fight him personally even if she’s given up fighting his politics.  And that’s exactly what he does not want.

 

“Why not?” Rey echoes.  “Because of you!  Because of what you’ve done!  You won.  I give up,” she sighs as she literally throws her hands in the air.  “Now, get out!  It’s been a long day . . . I’m not up for this . . .” 

 

Here’s his opening.  He’s so into this girl.  Kylo desperately wants her to like him a little.  So with a deep breath and a quiet tone, he tries to take the heat out of their argument.  “Rey, I want to start over--” 

 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve—"

 

“Let the past die.  Let’s focus on our future now.”

 

“Or what?” she snaps.  “Or you’ll murder some little girl until I agree to go along with you?”

 

He is unrepentant for that stunt.  “Violence gets people’s attention. Besides, I was never going to hurt her.”

 

Rey looks skeptical.  These days, she’s willing to believe the worst of him where once she had seen the best.  Where is all that faith and optimism that led her to storm the _Supremacy_?  Gone with the rest of the Resistance.  Gone because of him, he knows. 

 

“I was never going to hurt that girl,” Kylo repeats stubbornly.  Maybe a little defensively.

 

“With your reputation, no one really knows, do they?” she observes.

 

Kylo smirks.  “That’s the point of having my reputation.”  Doesn’t she get how this works?  He tries again to get the conversation back on track.  “I really liked your speech.”

 

Rey looks away and runs a nervous hand through her loose hair.  Gods, she is pretty when she’s not dressed as a grease monkey mechanic or a desert scavenger.  He’s never really noticed how truly pretty Rey is.   The first thing Kylo noticed about this girl was her intensity.  Her attraction has always been more who she is and not how she looks.  But she looks good.  Really good.  She was elegant in her Senate outfit earlier, but in casual clothes she is everyday cute. 

 

“It wasn’t even my speech.  Someone else wrote it,” she grumbles.

 

He raises an eyebrow.  “Is there another Resistance survivor I don’t know about?”

 

“Actually, your buddy Hux wrote it.” 

 

“Hux?”  Really??  “You talked Hux into writing your speech?”  Kylo can’t help it—he snorts with laughter.   “That’s the most amusing thing I’ve heard all day.  Who knew Hux was such a diehard rebel?”

 

Rey isn’t focused on Hux.  She’s focused on him.  She’s peering up at him.  “Wait--are you growing a beard?”

 

He automatically reaches up a hand to his scraggly chin.  “I thought I’d give it a try.  What do you think?”  He’s curious for her reaction.  Does she like it?

 

“It’s more goatee than beard.”

 

“It will fill in.”

 

“Nothing says evil mastermind like a goatee,” Rey remarks.  And is she flirting with him?  Or was that criticism? 

 

“So you like it?” he asks, angling for the compliment.

 

But Rey is not so easily led.  “I don’t know yet,” she answers tartly.  “A beard might remind me of Luke Skywalker.”

 

“Well, now I’m definitely shaving it.”  His response makes Rey smile a little.  He counts it as progress.  Kylo knows he has a long, long way to go with this girl.  But he’s determined.

 

So determined in fact, that he now plops down at her tiny two-person kitchen table.  Her eyes widen at this aggressive move.

 

“Have a seat,” Rey says with as much sarcasm as humanly possible.  She has her hands on her hips as she glares at him.  “By all means, make yourself at home Supreme Leader.”

 

“Don’t call me that.  There’s no need to call me that when we’re alone.”  In public, they are the Leader and the Senator.  But in private, they will be much more than that.  And that makes him feel protective of her.  “Rey, I don’t like you living down here near the Underworld.  This place is a dump.  You can do a lot better.”

 

She bristles at the criticism.  “It costs a bundle.  This world is expensive.  Really expensive.  This is four times what I pay on Dantooine for half the space.”

 

He repeats, “This place is a dump. I passed two hookers and a spice dealer on the way here.”

 

Rey just shrugs.  “It’s way better than where I lived on Jakku.  And it’s what I can afford right now.  It will do.”

 

“What do I pay Senators anyway?”  He’s curious.

 

She names a sum and starts to explain.  “Look, I don’t get a check until next month and all my savings is in Dantooine.  And when you add up first and last month’s rent plus a deposit, that’s a lot.  The credits your guy gave me didn’t go as far as I hoped.”

 

“Alright, you get a raise,” Kylo decides.  Credits mean nothing to him.  He neither knows nor cares what things cost.  “Rey, I’ll double your salary if you move.  This place is a dump.”

 

“I heard you the first two times,” she complains.  Looking about the modest room, she clearly has a different perspective.  “This is a lot better than a rusty walker on Jakku.”

 

“That’s not the standard.”  And why are they arguing about this when he is so obviously correct?  Kylo decides that a change of scenery is in order.  “Come on.  The air is way too thick down here to breathe.  Let’s get out of here.  My speeder is out front.”  Rey opens her mouth to object but he raises a hand to forestall her.  “Don’t fuss.  Let me buy you dinner.  That way you won’t have to dip into your apocalypse rainy day stash here.”  He gestures to her piles of bottled water and canned food neatly stacked against the wall.  They are a sad statement on how current Rey’s past still is.

 

Rey blushes bright red with embarrassment and now he’s sorry he said that.  It was mean.  Kylo tries to reassure her, “Look, you don’t have to worry that you won’t have enough food and water—”

 

“It’s not that—"

 

“Yes, it is.  You did the same thing on Dantooine.”

 

“How did you know that?” she frowns.  “Wait, don’t answer me.  I don’t want to know how long you have been stalking me.”

 

“I was watching over you.”  Truly, he was.  In the tradition of how that jackass Kenobi watched over his uncle growing up on Tatooine.  He kept Rey safe from problems on Dantooine even though she didn’t know it.  His intel guys foiled a burglary twice.  And then he himself had intervened to get rid of that mechanic guy who got a little too friendly outside of work.  Sure, it’s fine for Rey to have guy friends.  She just doesn’t get to have boyfriends.  He draws the line there.  No one is going to subvert destiny on his watch.

 

“Come on.”  Kylo holds out his hand.  “Please,” he adds for effect.

 

“Do I have a choice?” she asks with resentment.

 

He sighs.  “Don’t make it like that.”

 

“Oh, alright.”  She follows him to the stolen speeder like she’s marching to her execution.  Kylo does his best to ignore it. 

 

They ride in silence for a bit, but the Force tells him that Rey’s mind and her emotions are churning nonetheless.  To ease the tension, Kylo tries some small talk.  He sucks at this, but here goes.  “How do you like Coruscant?”

 

“It’s crowded and expensive and loud.  And not my home on Dantooine.”

 

She’s not making it easy for him.  But Kylo keeps his cool despite her petulant tone.  “There’s nothing for you there,” he dismisses Dantooine.  She has a new life now.  Once she adjusts to it, she will be happier.  “You’ll love Coruscant,” Kylo promises with confidence.  “This is the best world in the galaxy.”

 

She has nothing to say to this claim, so another long silence falls.

 

Finally, when they are parked in stalled traffic, Rey speaks up. “Do you do this often?”

 

“Go out incognito?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This is the first time,” Kylo admits.   He’s doing this for her.  Normally, he spends nights in his palace communing with the Force, working, or practicing with his sword.  But now that she’s here, there’s a reason to go out.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To the Mid Levels.  I want to see if a place I used to frequent as a kid is still here. I lived on Coruscant when my mother was a New Republic Senator. Before they started moving the capital around to rotate systems.”

 

“How old were you then?” Rey wants to know.

 

“Ten or twelve.  Something like that.  It was before she sent me away to my uncle.”  Kylo flashes a smirk as he recalls his youth before Jedi training.  “I used to run wild in this city.”

 

She frowns.  “Wasn’t there anyone to look after you?”

 

“I was very good at eluding my nannies.”

 

She raises an eyebrow.  “So you were a troublemaker even then?”

 

“Yes, yes I was,” he admits.   From his earliest days, he was a problem child.  Kylo remembers well overhearing teachers and caregivers and his parents talking about him when they thought he was out of earshot.  He was too unfocused, too headstrong, too moody, with too much Force.  Too much like his grandfather, although it would be years before young Ben Solo understood the full ramifications of that remark.  But the overall message was clear and unrelenting:  he was a ticking bomb to be managed lest he get even worse. 

 

“You were lucky to have people who cared about you,” Rey makes a cloying comment out of ignorance.

 

“That’s one way to look at it.  There!”  He points to the left.  “There it is.  It’s still here after all these years.”   He’s delighted.

 

Beside him, Rey squints into the nighttime cityscape.  “What am I looking at?”

 

“Over there at the end of that small park.  It’s a pizza stand.”  Kylo flashes a rare genuine smile.  He’s thoroughly enjoying this nostalgia, which is rare for him.   “Cheap, gross pizza by the slice,” he recommends it happily.  “Come on,” he urges as he swoops the stolen speeder into a fortuitously vacant parking spot.

 

Gods, this is so normal, he thinks.  Just him and Rey casually wandering the bourgeoisie denizen of Coruscant on a random Thursday night.   He could get used to this.  It feels downright carefree right now.

 

“What’ll it be?  Cheese, Pepperoni, or Supreme?” the guy at the pizza stand asks without looking up.  They each make a selection.  “Drink?” the man prompts.  Kylo gets a beer.  Rey gets water.  She always drinks water, he knows from her lengthy intel file.  Then they find an empty bench in the small greenspace and sit down together to eat.

 

“That’s a lot of vegetables,” Rey eyes his pizza slice suspiciously.  Like it might hurt her.   Like she’s completely grossed out by so many greens.

 

He shrugs.  “I’m a healthy guy.” 

 

“That’s not at all how I pictured you.  I figured the Dark Side would be all booze and sugar.”

 

He smirks.  “It is far more discipline than you might think.  But there’s room for some greasy pizza comfort food now and then.”

 

Rey dutifully gnaws away at hers.  “This is so weird,” she observes aloud as she wipes at her mouth with a napkin.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This.  You and me eating pizza in a public park.   This is sort of normal, and you’re not normal.” 

 

“What am I?”  He can’t wait to hear this description.

 

“Intense.  Angry.  Vindictive.  I guess you’re a stalker now, too.”

 

“Yeah, I see that,” he agrees affably.  He owns who he is.

 

“It’s weird,” she asserts again.

 

“Weird good or weird bad?”

 

“I’m not sure.” 

 

He tries again to make peace.  “Rey, I want to reboot this relationship.”

 

She shoots him a look.  “We don’t have a relationship.”

 

“Sure, we do.  We’re eating pizza together right now.  This is the longest we have ever been around each other without one of us pulling a weapon,” he realizes.  “Which reminds me.”  He digs into the deep fold of his baggy tunic to produce a small blaster.  “Here.”  He checks the safety and hands it over.  “You need this where you’re living.  Keep it at least until we find you a new place.”

 

“A blaster?” Rey blinks as she turns the gun over in her hands.

 

“You were a good shot on Takodana.  You would have nailed me if I didn’t block your shots.”

 

“Okay,” she allows, stashing the weapon into the waistband of her capri pants and covering it with her shirt.  “Thanks . . . I guess.”  She’s still wary, he can see.  She’s sitting as far away from him on the bench as she can.  But she does seem considerably more relaxed than earlier.  It’s a good sign.

 

“Why are you doing all this?” she asks quietly. 

 

“I told you—I want a fresh start.”

 

“Why can’t we just go our separate ways?  I thought that’s what we did when the war ended.  You went off to rule the galaxy and I began a new life.”

 

“We have a special connection.  No,” he holds up a hand to anticipate her objection.  “Don’t deny it.  You and I have something special that others don’t.”

 

She dismisses the thought.  “That’s just the Force.”

 

“The Force is everything,” he intones solemnly, feeling very Skywalker in the moment.

 

“Well, I’m done with the Force,” Rey declares and it makes him wince.  All her wasted potential is a travesty in his opinion.  Besides, that’s not how the Force works.  And he tells her so.

 

“Luke Skywalker tried the same thing.  It doesn’t work.  You can run from your destiny, but you cannot escape it.”  Not on Ahch-To.  Not on Dantooine.  Not here on Coruscant.

 

She looks ready to argue again so Kylo jumps in first.  He changes the topic to disarm her.  “Tell me about my mother.”   He’s been dying to ask her this.

 

Rey shoots him a cold look.  “She’s dead.”

 

“I know.  I felt it.   Tell me what happened.”

 

“She didn’t last long after . . . after . . . “

 

“After I killed everyone,” he finishes bluntly.  He’s direct by nature, like Rey is.  Kylo doesn’t believe in sugarcoating things.  Life is to be handled head on.

 

Rey takes another bite of pizza and chews a moment before she speaks.  “Leia was very close to many in the Resistance.  They were like her family.  Seeing them die before her eyes  . . . the General felt responsible . . . and with Luke and Chewie and Han gone . . . well, I think she sort of lost the will to live.”

 

He recoils at that characterization of his mother.  “That doesn’t sound like her.  Leia Organa was a fighter,” he objects.  “She spent her whole life fighting.  She never gave up even when she should have.” 

 

“She did at the end,” Rey says softly.  “I think all that fighting was the problem.  Your mother spent her whole life fighting and in the end she lost.  She lost her husband and her brother to you.  She lost her New Republic and the Resistance to you.   She lost all the younger generation she mentored and the longtime friends she loved to you.  Everything she fought for was destroyed, and by her own son.” Like him, Rey doesn’t mince words, although she speaks them slowly and thoughtfully.   She’s not trying to hurt him, Kylo senses.  She’s trying to explain.  “It was peaceful at the end.  She died holding my hand.  And then, she sort of faded away into the Force.  I can’t really explain it otherwise.  She just gave in to the inevitable once she lost her hope.”

 

Kylo nods and digests her words a moment before he asks, “Is that why you gave up too?”

 

“Yes.”  Rey looks away as she wipes her fingers with a napkin.  “I don’t want to be your mother.   That’s what this Senator thing is, right?   You want me to be a new version of your mother?   Do you need someone to fight against now that you’ve killed everyone?”

 

“No.”  That’s not it.  And he resents the psychoanalysis she’s harping on.

 

“Are you bored?   Is that it?”  Rey looks stumped.

 

It’s simple really.  “I wanted to see you.  I miss our connection,” he answers.

 

Again, Rey looks away.  “That was over a long time ago.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

 

“Yes, it does.  I wanted to help you to help yourself.  But you refused,” she recounts bitterly.

 

Kylo shoots her a sideways glance.  “I could say those exact words about you, you know.”

 

“Huh?”  Rey looks genuinely confused.

 

So he spells it out for her.  “I wanted to help you to help yourself.  But you turned me down and grabbed for the sword instead.  Were you going to kill me if you got it?” he demands.

 

“No!” she recoils.  “I was going to try to force you to call off the attack on the Resistance.” 

 

“So, the violence would be a threat?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Like I threatened that little girl to get you to change your mind?” he asks with a knowing look.

 

“No!” Rey automatically disavows the comparison.

 

“Yes,” he counters.  Then he leans in a little towards her to say under his breath the secret she won’t acknowledge.  “We’re a lot alike, Rey.” 

 

That earns him a look of withering contempt.  “Only in your mind.”

 

Undeterred, he sits back and stretches out his long legs.  “It’s good for me to get out of the palace.   I should have done this long ago. You’re good for me.”

 

She makes no reply.

 

“I never thought I would be in this position,” Kylo confides the closely held truth aloud.  He never dreamed he would supplant Snoke, surpass his grandfather’s legacy, and actually rule the galaxy on his own.  Kylo didn’t aspire to the position he’s in currently.  For so many reasons, he never thought it was achievable.  But here he is, the screwup kid everyone feared, learning on the job to rule it all. 

 

Again, Rey stays silent. 

 

“I never really thought we would win.”  He didn’t think Leia Organa was beatable.  But in the end, she was.  Part of him was devastated by that turn of events.  Kylo repeats his words ruefully as he shakes his head.  “I never really thought we would win.”   Some days, he wishes they hadn’t.

 

“You won.”  Rey abruptly stands up.   “Thanks for the pizza.”

 

He takes the cue.  “I’ll take you home.”

 

Rey stays silent during the ride back as he sneaks glances over at her.  She is the only girl who has ever caught his eye, and even with two years absence she sustains his interest. This is more than one of his run of the mill obsessions.  This is forever.  

 

From the moment Rey looked into his head and said the words Darth Vader to him, he knew she was the one.  And then, they were touching hands in the Force and she was marching up to Snoke warning not to underestimate him.  Kylo fell hard and fast at her fierce, bold devotion.  All his life, he has been pushed away and kept at a distance by his deadbeat dad, by his career obsessed mother, and by his Dark Side paranoid uncle.  But not by Rey.  He barely knew this girl before she was risking everything for him.  It was amazing how fast and how deep their connection had been.  And that’s why Kylo had been shocked and dismayed when minutes later she turned down his offer to join him.   That reaction turned to rage when she fled back to the Resistance.

 

But he forgave Rey that folly.  He let her live. Trusting that the Force would ensure their paths would cross again.  But after two years, inspired by his grandfather’s advice and tired of waiting, Kylo has taken matters into his own hands.  And here they are, circling one another in a dance of words, pushing and being pushed back, trying to establish some sort of rapport to build trust from.

 

Rey finally speaks when he pulls up in front of her shabby graffiti decorated building.  “No need to get out,” she tells him with a quelling look.  “I’ll let myself in.”

 

He nods and waits to see that she gets in the apartment building’s exterior door.  It makes her nervous.  “What?” she complains testily over at him.

 

“This is a dangerous place,” he calls back.  “I’ll leave when you get behind a locked door.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” she flushes at sounding so churlish.  She’s nervously fumbling with the handprint lock now.  Sensing she would not welcome help, Kylo remains watching from the speeder.  Finally, the door opens and she looks over at him. 

 

“I’m in.”

 

He nods.

 

“You can leave now.”

 

He nods.  “See you tomorrow night.”  Then he speeds off before she can reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving everyone! With all that's going on right now, it was just me and the kids. So, we had a junk food Thanksgiving--frozen pizza and ice cream from the freezer. That probably makes me the worst mother ever, but the kids preferred it.


	5. Chapter 5

First thing the next morning, Kylo sends a messenger in a Palace uniform to her Senate office with a credit card.  It has an eye-popping sum indicated.  Rey does a double take.  “Wow.”

 

“Compliments of the Supreme Leader,” the man announces with all due gravitas.  “Our Leader indicated that you would know what it is for.”

 

As this is happening, the Senate Chancellor breezes right into Rey’s office, unannounced as usual.  Hux sees the credit card changing hands and flashes a sneery smile.  “Taking bribes from the Palace already?  And in your first week no less.  That’s the spirit, Senator Resistance.  You’ll fit right in around here.”

 

“This isn’t a bribe,” Rey stiffens.

 

“They never are.” Hux gives her a knowing look.  He clearly enjoys her reaction.  “Don’t worry--corruption is very Old Republic of you.  But everything old is new again, they say.”

 

Rey pockets the credit card and shoots a frosty glare Hux’s direction.  Then she turns back to Kylo’s emissary.  “Thank you,” she tells him.  “Please thank the Supreme Leader as well.”  The man withdraws with a polite nod of respect towards her and the Chancellor.  And now, Rey and Hux are alone.

 

“You made all the newsfeeds last night, did you see?” The Chancellor has a devilish gleam in his eye.  Like he’s loving her notoriety.

 

“Yeah, I saw,” Rey grumbles.  Her fifteen minutes of fame as the loudmouth rebel diehard can’t be over soon enough.  “I’m getting death threats on the holonet now.”

 

“You’re no one until someone wants to kill you,” Hux quips.  “It’s all thanks to my speech, of course.  Your delivery was adequate though, and that helped.  Oh, don’t look so glum,” he cajoles her.  “You’re the newcomer everyone loves to hate.  The press is great.  What’s your follow-up going to be?  Calling for the violent overthrow of the regime?”

 

“I already did that,” she reminds him.  “I lost.” 

 

“Thank goodness for that,” Hux says emphatically.  “Learned your lesson, did you?” he raises a goading eyebrow.

 

“Actually, yes.  I was safely anonymous until a week ago when the Leader dragged me here.  I was content to watch you guys govern.”

 

“Governing the galaxy is your job now, too.  I’m here to inform you that I’m putting you on my Chancellor’s Council.”  Hux says this like it is a great honor.

 

“Uh . . . what?” Rey blinks in ignorance.

 

“You’re my token traitor.  I’m keeping an eye on you, Senator Snoke Slayer.” Hux waves a half-teasing, half-warning finger under her nose.  It’s really hard to tell what this guy’s true mood is.  His rapid-fire style always seems to have an edge.

 

“What does the Chancellor’s Council do?” she asks.

 

“Very little. The Senate has scant constitutional power by design.  It’s basically a vehicle to placate the liberal Core Worlds who still hold obliterating Hosnia against us.” 

 

Rey understands perfectly:  “Ren has all the power.”

 

Hux’s eyes narrow at this summation.  He bristles.  “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way.”  Then, he cocks his head and looks past her at the credenza across the room.  “Hey—that’s my coffee maker,” he accuses in a complete non sequitur.

 

“Huh?”  Rey follows his gaze to the item in question.

 

“That’s my coffee maker,” Hux is indignant.  “What is it doing here?”  He turns blazing blue eyes on her and demands an explanation.

 

Rey shrugs.  “Someone delivered it late yesterday.  It makes great caf.” 

 

“It should!” the Chancellor fumes.  “They must have thought it was to be installed in my new conference room.  Which this office should be,” he snarls.  “Heads will roll over this!” Hux declares with his usual bombast. 

 

That tickles Rey’s sense of humor.

 

Hux slants his gaze over to her sputtering.  “Why are you laughing?”

 

His completely straight delivery of that line has Rey really snickering now.  “Are you always this territorial?   And so covetous of other people's office space?”

 

“You clearly know nothing about the First Order,” he sniffs with disdain.

 

“Want a cup?” she walks over to pour him some caf.  She cheekily takes a big slurp.  “It’s good.”

 

“I don’t want a cup.  I want all the cups and the coffee maker back.  Everyone knows good caf is my drug of choice,” he declares.  “It’s my only bad habit.”  Hux reaches into his pocket for his comlink and then promptly orders an underling to come liberate his pilfered coffee maker.  Hux being Hux, he doesn’t stoop to doing his own errands.  He has people for that.

 

Still sipping her drink, Rey observes Hux’s prissy hissy fit and sighs, “I really don’t fit in around here.”

 

“Does that surprise you?” he agrees.  “So, what are your issues?”

 

“Huh?”  Is that a personal question?

 

“Your issues,” he prompts her impatiently.  “What areas of legislation interest you?”

 

Oh.  Right.  He’s talking policy.  “Uh . . . “  Rey pauses. 

 

“Shall I give you some options?”

 

“Yes.  Please.”

 

“Economic development of the Rim?  That one’s popular.  Maybe trade policy?  Hyperspace lane development?” the Chancellor suggests.  “Everyone likes to be on the side of progress.”

 

Rey frowns.  “I don’t know anything about those topics.”

 

“Well, you’re going to learn.  I also appointed you to the Rim Economic Council this morning.”

 

“Is that different from the Chancellor’s Council?”

 

“It’s far less prestigious,” he informs her.  “The REC is full of mining worlds and desert outpost systems looking for handouts.  As a scavenger from Tatooine—”

 

“Jakku.”

 

“Whatever.  This is your stomping ground, these are your issues, and those poor slobs are your people.  You should pick an issue and learn it well,” he instructs.  “Every Senator needs an expertise and a pet project.  Find yours.” 

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’m sending someone to retrieve that coffee maker ASAP,” he tells her as he turns to leave. 

 

Rey cracks a smile and calls after him.  “Can you wait until I’ve had a second cup?”

 

“No.  Absolutely not.” 

 

Not thirty seconds later, the woman from Hux’s office Rey met earlier arrives to attend to the coffee maker.  “Was he actually mad?” Rey asks her plainly.  “It was hard to tell.”  From what she’s seen, the Senate Chancellor always stomps around in a semi-state of huff, issuing orders, and pursing his lips. 

 

Hux’s staffer just smiles and shrugs indulgently.  “That was just Army being Army.  The Chancellor loves a good squabble.  Back in the day, he and Ren used to get into it big time.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“The Chancellor loves messing with people.  These days, I think he misses having someone to bicker with.  Ren is so reclusive now that he’s Leader.  No one dares talk back to him these days.  He’s even more heavy handed than Snoke was,” the woman confides.  “Everyone says it’s because he’s insecure,” she adds in a stage whisper.

 

Rey says nothing as she thinks of how she ate pizza out in public with the reclusive Supreme Leader just last night.

 

“The Chancellor likes you.”

 

Really?  Rey is surprised to hear this.  “How can you tell?”

 

“He’s nasty with a smile to you.  With others, he’s just nasty,” the woman explains rather matter of fact.

 

“Got it.”

 

“Say, have you got plans for Saturday night?  The Chancellor wanted me to invite you to the party.”

 

“Party?”  Rey is intrigued.

 

“It’s Army’s birthday party.  It’s a surprise party.”

 

“Okay.  Wait--then, how does he know—”

 

“Oh, he planned it,” the staffer explains with a grin. “That’s Army being Army.  He plans his own surprise party.”

 

“Right,” Rey nods.  That sounds like him.

 

“The Chancellor is not into spontaneity,” the staffer confirms.  “I’ll send you the details.  It’s at the Officers’ Club.  I know you’re new here and . . . uh . . . the enemy, so maybe you don’t know of it.  But it’s a nice place.  Strictly A List.  You need to dress for it.”

 

Uh oh.  Now, Rey is nervous.  “Dress how?”

 

“All of us girls will be wearing cocktail dresses.  Good ones.  Odds are that you’ll be photographed, so look good, Senator.”

 

“Photographed?” she wonders aloud.  “The press also knows about the Chancellor’s surprise birthday party?”

 

“Like I said, Army planned it.  The media were first call we made.”

 

“I’ve never been to a birthday party before,” Rey thinks aloud.

 

“Really?  Well, it will be fun. Army knows everyone.  And it will be wall to wall senior officers, if you know what I mean.”  The woman leans in for some girl talk.  “Even eligible cute, young, single ones, if you’re in the market for some company.”  Looking like perhaps she has said too much, the woman now steps back to elaborate.  “The invite list is strictly top brass plus the few important people here at the Senate and some obligatory invites to the Palace.  And you, of course.”

 

Thinking now of the sizeable amount of Kylo’s credits she currently has in her pocket, Rey asks, “So where would I go to get a good dress around here?”  Luckily, her knowledgeable new friend is happy to advise.

 

Several boring meetings and many handshakes later, Rey is done for the day.  She marches out of her office, pointedly ignoring the looks she gets in the hallway.  After yesterday’s speech and the resulting media feeding frenzy for which Rey has no official comment, she’s getting lots of attention.  It’s impossible for her to fade into the background now.  But once she is outside the Senate complex, she blends into the crowded walkways of rush hour Coruscant.  She’s just another young woman running to catch the next public transport on her way home from the office.  She’s back to being anonymous, and Rey likes it.  She travels across the city and then transfers twice as she makes her way down to the Lower Levels.  Gazing about her neighborhood as she walks the final block home, Rey has to admit that Kylo has a point:  this place isn’t very nice.  But it feels very her.  In the stately halls of the Imperial Senate, Rey feels like a complete imposter. 

 

Kylo is waiting for her when she walks in.  She was pretty much expecting he would be there.  He looks incredibly different in civilian clothes.  Much less malevolent.  The basic work tunic, pants, and boots reveal just how muscular Kylo is despite his slimness.  Frankly, it’s strange to see all his pale skin on display.  She’s used to seeing this man covered head to toe with his long uniform, helmet, gloves, and cowl.  But sitting at her tiny table now, his baggy nondescript tunic is open at the neck and his shirt sleeves are pushed up.  It momentarily reminds Rey of the time the Force bond had opened to reveal him naked to the waist.  That had been so unexpected—and so impressive—Rey had been shocked.  Then flustered.  She blushes even now at the memory.  

 

“Wait—no ‘Honey, I’m home from the Senate?’” he jokes.  Then he flashes that half smirk, half smile of his that reminds her so much of Han Solo.   He leans forward to tell her _sotto voce_ , “That’s your cue to ask me how running the galaxy went today.”

 

“Are you drinking my water?” Rey accuses as her eyes narrow on an empty bottle sitting on the table before him.  “Don’t drink my water.  That is for emergencies only.”

 

Kylo fails to see what the big deal is.  “I had to drink something.  I can barely breathe down here.  I’m going to cough up a lung if I have to keep coming down here.  Besides, you’re moving soon so I might as well drink some.  That’s less to relocate.”

 

“Don’t drink my water.  I might need that water,” she maintains stubbornly.  Rey knows she’s a little manic about her water stash, but she has good reason to be. 

 

“You won’t need it.”  Kylo looks her in the eye.  “Rey, I promise you will never be short of anything ever again.  Come on,” he stands and heads for the door.  “Let’s get out of here.  I’ll buy you a water to replace that one when we’re out.”

 

Maybe she shouldn’t, but Rey goes along with it.  She’s curious after their outing last night.  And, she does kinda want to replace that water.

 

“This is a new speeder,” she remarks as she follows Kylo to his ride and hops in. 

 

“It’s not mine.  I would never own a piece of junk like this,” he assures her.  “I stole it from outside the Palace.”

 

“Wait--you stole this?” Rey is surprised.  And alarmed.

 

“I stole last night’s speeder, too,” he reveals as he guns the engines and they take off.  “I can’t exactly come down here in a Palace transport.”

 

“Oh.”  She slants him a glance.  “Yeah, I supposed you’re right.”  With his long hair a little wild and tickling at his cheek as they fly, Kylo looks almost boyish. It’s kind of endearing.  “And here I thought you were Mr. Law and Order.”

 

“Oh, I am.  But those rules don’t apply to me.”

 

Oh, naturally, she thinks.  The Supreme Leader is above the law.  The sense of entitlement behind that statement irks her.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Anywhere where I can breathe.  Can you move tomorrow?  I hate the Lower Levels.  It’s depressing down here.”

 

Rey ignores his complaint.  She has no intention of moving.  Her current apartment is fine and she doesn’t want to forfeit her security deposit by breaking her lease.

 

As Kylo keeps them whizzing by, weaving in and out of traffic, Rey judges this a safe time to ask a question that’s been on her mind.  “What did you mean last night when you said you were trying to help me to help myself?”  She had been stumped by Kylo’s perspective on his offer in Snoke’s throne room.

 

Kylo thinks a moment before he answers, his eyes still on their flight path.  “Even on the Starkiller, I was trying to help you.   To keep you from Luke.  He was a terrible teacher.   The guy was a mess.”

 

“Yeah, I found that out.”

 

“He would have poisoned your mind with unnecessary rules.  The Force is so much more than he taught me.  The narrow dogmatic view of the Jedi is too limiting,” Kylo shakes his head.

 

“It certainly was for you.” Rey can’t keep the tone of judgement from her voice.

 

“The Jedi are dead.  Let them go,” Kylo complains as he hangs a hairpin left turn that makes the clunky speeder lurch.  He’s a very good pilot, Rey notes.  But this craft is not up to his expertise.  “The Jedi were pious hypocrites and failures mostly.  They screwed up the galaxy again and again.  Let them go, Rey.” 

 

“I have.  I gave up on the Force.”  Good riddance to all that Jedi business, she thinks.

 

Her response causes him to whip his head around to face her.  Kylo’s dark eyes snap at her.  “Don’t say that,” he hisses.  Rey is taken aback by his sudden vehemence.   “Do not take the Force in vain,” he growls with true menace.

 

After that, they ride in silence for a bit. 

 

Kylo takes them all the way up to the Upper Level, to the wide boulevard walkways lined with outdoor cafes.  This is picture perfect Coruscant, with quaint white lights strung above bistro tables where people sit engrossed in conversation over drinks.  Friends and lovers stroll by in groups of twos and threes on the adjacent walkways.  The notes of a street musician waft over on the breeze.  It’s a very charming scene set amid the backdrop of the gauzy violet twilight sky.  This is an early Friday night in the heart of posh, pedestrian Coruscant.

 

Kylo selects a spot and nabs them a table near the walkway.  “People watching is the best part of this world,” he confides as they sit down.  “The problem with being Leader is that everyone is watching me when I would prefer to be watching them.”  Rey is a little surprised that Kylo is speaking so plainly in public.  But the loud, happy buzz of so many conversations around them must make him feel comfortable being indiscreet.

 

The waiter droid appears with a menu.  Rey stares at it blankly.  She’s not one for haute cuisine.  “Order me what you’re having,” she tells Kylo to hide her lack of sophistication.

 

“Are you sure?” he raises an eyebrow.  “It could be all vegetables.”

 

She shudders.  “Yuck.”

 

He smirks.  Then he turns to the droid and orders something she doesn’t recognize.

 

“This is fancy,” she observes, looking around.   This isn’t pizza in the park.  This is rich people at their most unctuous, meaning rich people pretending to be casual even though there is nothing casual about how they are dressed or what they are doing or saying.   The pretense of everyday expensive intimidates Rey.

 

“There’s wine.”  Kylo pours himself a glass and offers to pour one for her.

 

“No, thanks.  I don’t drink.”

 

“You should.  It might help you be less uptight.”

 

“Drinking dehydrates you,” she explains her reasoning.

 

“So we’re back to your water fetish?”

 

“It also goes straight to my head,” she admits. 

 

“Fine by me.  I’m the one flying tonight.  Get as drunk as you want,” Kylo leers across the table at her.

 

Rey frowns.  “Are you trying to seduce me?” 

 

“You get seduced to the Dark Side with power, not wine,” Kylo corrects her.

 

Rey flushes.  She wasn’t thinking about the Force.

 

“I suppose I could seduce you the normal way.”  He pours her a glass of wine and slides it over.  “Here, have a drink and tell me if it’s working.”

 

“It will never work,” Rey shoots him a look as she attempts to ignore how attractive he looks in this setting.

 

“Careful.  I like a challenge.  I need a challenge.” 

 

She raises an eyebrow.  “Ruling the galaxy doesn’t satisfy like it used to?”

 

Kylo actually laughs.  “How’d you guess?”  He takes a sip of his own wine and asks, “Did you get the credits from my aide?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good.  Spend them on a new lease someplace safe.  Do it tomorrow.”

 

“I’m fine where I am.”

 

“I don’t like it.” 

 

“Are you always this controlling?” she asks sharply.

 

“You’ve just never had anyone to care about your wellbeing,” he retorts.  “There is such a thing as too independent, you know.”

 

Rey resents his interference.  “I can handle myself.  I handled you, didn’t I?”

 

The droid arrives with the food now and it’s a welcome interruption.  It doesn’t take much for them to get into an argument.  She and Kylo have always had this strange tension.  Sometimes it’s threatening, sometimes it’s exciting, sometimes it’s infuriating.   But it’s always there.  Like the undercurrent of attraction she keeps trying to ignore.  Their personal chemistry is befuddling.  She hates this guy, yet she sort of likes him, too.   

 

With his deep set, intense eyes and angular face, Kylo is far from classically handsome. But Rey isn’t much for the pretty boy look.  She’s from Jakku where men were never hyper groomed or vain.   She watches Kylo a minute as he eats.  He didn’t shave the goatee, she notices.    His scratchy almost-beard is filling in fast.  All that long stubble is very Rim to her eyes.  Men here in the Core are uniformly cleanshaven.  Especially the spit and polish military and professional types she sees in the Senate hallways.  Ironically, those men look and act nothing like their Leader.

 

Kylo glances up to catch her eyes on him.  She instantly averts her gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring.  But if he notices, he doesn’t let on.  “Tell me about my Senate.”

That’s a safe topic, so she goes with it.  “The Chancellor says I need a cause.  Some policy area to focus on and to gain an expertise in.”

 

Kylo nods.  “That’s often how it’s done.  Is there an area that interests you?”

 

“No, not really. I’m not much for politics.” 

 

“You know a lot about poverty,” he points out.  “No, don’t get mad.  That’s an observation not a slight.  You probably know poverty in the Rim better than any of the other Senators.  Rey, you lived it.” 

 

“I guess . . .”  She sighs.   “I’m a terrible Senator.  I feel like I shouldn’t be learning on the job like this.”

 

He flashes a rueful half-smile.  “I’m the Supreme Leader and I’m learning on the job. Everyone knows it, too.”

 

“Does that bother you?”  They have never spoken about Kylo Ren’s unrelentingly bad press.

 

“You mean do I care that a wide segment of my Empire hates me and thinks I’m mentally deranged and dangerous?”  He shrugs.  “No. I sort of cultivate that image.”  She watches in silence as Kylo takes another few bites and chews, then sits back to reflect.  “Running the galaxy is not as much fun as I thought it would be.  It’s harder than I expected,” he admits.

 

“You sound like you don’t like it.”

 

“Some days I don't.”

 

“You killed a lot of people to get to this point,” Rey growls.  A lot of people who she cared about.

 

“I know,” he answers softly.   “I can’t screw it up. But Skywalkers always screw things up. That’s the problem.  That’s where you come in, Rey.” 

 

Uh oh.  That doesn’t sound good.

 

Kylo lounges back in his chair now, manspreading with one elbow hooked over the chair back.  He exudes an easy relaxed confidence that is the antithesis of the ramrod straight stiffness of Armitage Hux.  There is something very predictable and premeditated about the Chancellor’s posturing.  By contrast, Kylo Ren is deceptively easygoing.   Almost casually dangerous.   Kylo never portends his next move.  He’s as likely to kill you as he is to laugh at you, Rey thinks.  And, actually, that’s sort of alluring. 

 

“Kylo—”

 

“You used to call me Ben.”

 

“That was when I thought you were a different person.”

 

“I am Ben Solo,” he corrects her, “but I am also Kylo Ren.”

 

“Yeah,” Rey nods slowly.  “I see that now.”  He’s the guy who killed his Master but refused to forsake his cause.  He’s the guy who slaughtered the entire Resistance but pardoned her and his archnemesis mother.   He’s the guy who sends a squad of armored goons to kidnap her but buys her dinner.  He’s Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, the most hated man in the galaxy and the heir to his grandfather’s legacy in all things.  But the vestiges of Ben Solo remain.  He is conflicted, like he has been all along.

 

Rey saw that conflict straight away.  Because even when Kylo was swinging a sword at her on the Starkiller, he was offering to teach her the ways of the Force.   She saw those same glimpses of a better man through their Force bond interactions later on.  They gave her false hope.  What a fool she was.  Rey saw his conflict and thought he needed help to resolve it.  She believed she could be the one to lead him back to the Light.  But Kylo Ren doesn’t want to cure his conflict.  He wallows in it.  Rey sees now that Kylo is content to be mostly Dark with tinges of Light.  His better qualities peek through now and then for only a select few to see.

 

 So, she asks directly, “What is this all about really?  Why are you doing this?”

 

“My Empire needs more Light.  It’s a monolith of thought right now.” 

 

“How am I going to make any difference?” she complains.  “Even if I wanted to change things, I’m one vote in a Senate of a thousand.  No one cares what I think.”

 

“I do.  You can make a difference through me,” Kylo says quietly.

 

Rey scowls.  “I’m not joining you.  Why should I help you?”    

 

He reminds her, “We were friends once.  Briefly.”

 

“We barely knew each other,” she objects. 

 

“It was enough for you to trust me.  To try to save my soul.”  He smirks at the memory.

 

She looks down.  “You’re a lost cause,” Rey grumbles, feeling embarrassed at her folly on the _Supremacy_.  “I know that now.”

 

Kylo reaches across the table to lay a hand over hers.  She flinches but he doesn’t let her pull back.  “Don’t give up on me,” he tells her, his dark eyes flashing.

 

Rey shakes her head no.  “I have. You had your chance.”

 

“We never had our chance.  You didn’t let us even begin,” he hisses.  “Do we have to be enemies, Rey?   Do you have to hate me because I am Dark?” 

 

“I don’t hate you, I hate what you do.  And I don’t trust you now.”

 

“I killed my master for you,” Kylo rasps.

 

She shoots him a look.  “You did that for yourself.”

 

“I saved your life from Snoke,” he snaps back.  Kylo looks exasperated now.  “What I do in time of war is not what I would do now.  Can you understand that?  I did what I had to do with the Resistance.  There was no compromise in my mother and her terrorist friends.”

 

Rey is unimpressed.  She tells him coolly, “I think you do what you want, when you want.  War is just your convenient excuse.”

 

“I ended the war for the good of everyone.  I’m just sorry it ended us too.”

 

Rey is flustered.  “Keep your voice down,” she warns.  “Someone will hear you.”

 

“I wondered about you a lot,” he keeps going.  “I talked myself out of going to Dantooine more times than I can count.”

 

“What do I need to say for you to get it through your head?” she complains bitterly.  “I’m not joining your cause.  And this Senate position is ridiculous--” 

 

“It wasn’t just about the cause.”

 

Rey looks up sharply.  She eyes Kylo a moment before she asks the question she has wondered off and on since Crait.  “What was it about?  What did you mean when you asked me to join you?  What were you offering me exactly?”

 

Kylo pauses before he answers.  “Everything.”

 

“What??”  She makes a face of confusion at his vagueness.  It angers her.  “Spell it out!  Was it a political alliance?  Was it about the Force?  Was it . . . personal?” Rey flushes as she adds this last bit, but she wants to know.  This whole conversation is fraught with pent-up emotion and ‘what if.’  Rey would be lying if she said she hasn’t wondered what would have happened if she had accepted Kylo’s offer to join him.

 

“I offered you everything.   You didn’t even bother to ask about the terms.  You could have negotiated the parameters any way you liked,” he informs her curtly.   He shoots her a look of hurt reproach.  “I would have given you what you wanted.”

 

Rey defends her actions.  “When a Dark Sider wants you to join them, it’s a bargain with the devil.  Saying yes usually is the precursor to submission.” Rey eyes Kylo a moment.  She’s every bit as resentful as he is right now.  Just thinking about her disillusionment in Snoke’s throne room gets her choked up.  “What did you want in return?” Rey demands, she’s curious how this works.

 

“Everything.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes.  “I thought so.”

 

“You’ve got it all wrong again,” Kylo says through gritted teeth.  “Get those old Jedi-Sith tropes out of your head.  I would have given as much as I asked in return.  That’s how relationships work.  Only you don’t know that, do you?  No one has ever cared about you, have they?”

 

That comment hits way too close to home.  Because once in heroic, romantic daydreams, Rey had thought she might care about this man and that he might care about her.  But that was before he revealed his true colors at Crait.  Rey now retrieves her napkin and tosses it on her plate as she launches to her feet.  “Are you done?  Because I’m done.”  Rey refuses to have Jakku thrown in her face.  She cannot help the circumstances of her upbringing, and she will not be mocked for them.

 

“Wait!”  He’s paying the bill as she strides through the restaurant and into the street.  “Rey--wait!  We’re not done yet!”

 

Kylo catches up to her as she looks frantically around for the nearest transport stop.  There’s one, at the end of the corner on the left.  Rey heads for it fast as Kylo dogs her footsteps. 

 

“Running away in a huff again, are you?” he gibes.  “You push people away, Rey.  You know that about yourself, right?”

 

“Goodnight.  Thanks for dinner.”  There’s a transport pulling up soon.  Rey can see it in the distance.

 

Kylo keeps pace with her fast trot.  He’s like the annoying voice in her head, speaking aloud her self-doubt and insecurities now.  “If you’re lonely, it’s your own fault.  You’re not on Jakku any longer.”

 

“Go to Hell.”  And geez, enough with the negging, she thinks.

 

But he won’t quit.  “You’re nobody!  You’re nothing!  Just a scavenger from Jakku.  But I could give you everything, if you will let me.  You’re throwing away the chance of a lifetime--”

 

“I’ll never join you!”  Rey won’t even spare him a look.

 

It gets worse.  “I know how fucked up you are from your parents and from Jakku, and I don’t care!” Kylo promises.  “I won’t try to change you. I’m fucked up, too.  We’re a pair, Rey.”

 

“You owe me a water,” Rey snaps as she breaks into a partial run.  There’s a crowd milling about the transport stop and she wants to make sure she gets on.  Rey rudely elbows her way up to the front and Kylo does the same as he follows.  She’s stepping onboard when she feels his hand restrain her upper arm.  He has a vice grip on her.  But the transport door starts to close with her standing in the doorway, so he lets her go. 

 

Still, he has to have the last word.  “Give me another chance!”   It comes out half-plea, half-command.

 

Rey doesn’t respond.  She just lets the door close between them. 

 

He’s hollering now, every inch the petulant, entitled Dark prince of the First Order, as he pounds on the glass between them.  “You let down your guard down once before.  Do it again!” he snarls.  Kylo’s expressive face is ugly in the moment.

 

The transport takes off.  He stands there watching, a tall, distinctive figure amid the crowd.  Then, the transport rounds the corner and he disappears from her sight.  At least he’s not chasing her.  Rey breathes a sigh of relief.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It’s Saturday morning and Rey is determined to make it a good day. No Senate drama, no Kylo drama. It’s just her and the fully loaded credit card burning a hole in her pocket. Kylo meant for her to use those credits to move, but Rey has a better idea. She’s going shopping for her first ever real party. This won’t be cake and ice cream in the break room at the droid factory between shift changes. Hux’s birthday bash will be a snazzy see-and-be-seen blowout like on the holonet society columns. Rey is determined to attend and to fit in. 

There have to be some perks that come with this Senate gig, right? Maybe it’s the snazzy parties, Rey hopes. 

She presents herself at the fancy department store recommended to her. The saleslady inquires what Rey needs and where she is going. The mention of Chancellor Hux and the First Order Officers’ Club perks her attention. I have just the thing, the saleslady assures Rey. It’s a super sexy black sparkly cocktail dress that has Rey fidgeting before the mirror. Perhaps something a bit more modest, Rey gulps as she tugs at the minimal fabric. The saleslady rummages around and returns with a white dress. It has sleeves and it covers her knees, which is more than can be said for all the other options. It might be a bit mature, but it is elegant, the saleslady judges. I’ll take it, Rey decides. She also exits the store with strappy heeled sandals and a matching purse, which the saleslady deem ‘ladylike, if a bit matchy-matchy.’ Whatever that means.

Clearly sensing a fashion novice, the saleslady becomes a gushing font of advice. With that dress, keep the hair and makeup young and fresh and not too done, Rey is advised. Effortless becomes her goal, and that is a very illusory concept. Because as far as Rey can tell, there is nothing effortless about the thirty minutes of makeup application she is urged to do, all designed to achieve the ironically named ‘no-makeup look.’ But she likes the blowout at the walk-in hair salon down the street. With her Jakku days firmly behind her, Rey loves the look and feel of squeaky clean, shiny hair. Feeling her hair lying about her shoulders feels decadent, too. Feminine in a way Rey never felt back then. This whole adventure—the fancy dress, the silly shoes, the effort for beauty—is new for Rey. This girly stuff is not something she has tried much before. That makes it a bit exciting. 

It’s midafternoon by the time Rey wanders back to her apartment with her new purchases. She automatically takes a quick look around now as she steps in. But there’s no Kylo in sight. Instead, there is a 24 pack of water bottles sitting on her table. 

It makes Rey smile despite her intention to the contrary. 

Kylo came into her life two years ago and forever changed it. In a two-week whirlwind she made it from Jakku to Ahch-To to the Supremacy to Crait, both pursued and pursuing Kylo Ren. Now, two and a half years later, as abruptly as before, Kylo is back in her life. Kidnapping her, uprooting her, giving her a new and unwanted life. He’s like some Dark Side fairy godmother crossed with a tough love motivational life coach. Rey doesn’t really know what to make of it. She blames it all on that Force bond Snoke created. Because otherwise, she and Kylo would have no reason to concern themselves with each other. Luckily, Rey was able to end that bond not long after Snoke died. But, unfortunately, it looks like the damage was already done. She can’t seem to extricate herself from Kylo Ren even years later.

Frowning, she decides to focus on a less perplexing topic. Rey settles back with her datapad to relax and find out everything she can about the upcoming party. She reads about Chancellor Hux, about the First Order Officers’ Club, and about the impact the Second Empire has had on its capital world. A lot has happened on Coruscant in the last two years.

When the First Order, long a fringe group of extremists in the Rim, finally burst on the scene in a big way, the Core Worlds of the Republic were a bit shocked. Not just by the epic scale of the Alderaan-style violence, but by the organized vehemence of those crazies. Who knew to take those guys seriously? For years, hardline warmongers like Leia Organa had warned of their growing threat, but no one took action. In the wake of the destruction of Hosnia, Leia Organa was proven correct. The Core was suddenly scared. They were ill prepared to handle the situation with the New Republic government and fleet destroyed. 

Coruscant was the First Order’s goal, naturally. Coruscant has been the capital world of the galaxy on and off for millennia. And everyone knows that if you’re going to rule, you need to rule from the Eternal City. But in this case, claiming Coruscant has special significance. The First Order leadership is mostly the sons and daughters of the Imperial Exiles who fled after the fall of Palpatine’s Empire. Many of those families had been part of the ruling class of the Old Republic for generations beforehand. Coruscant is their home, and now these prodigal militants have returned. Raised on stories of the glorious past, they are here to shake things up. It is a homecoming of a lot of elite, savvy young people with an axe to grind. 

And that’s how to explain things like the First Order Officers’ Club. Rey learns that it used to be a private club founded in the pre-Clone Wars Old Republic era, full of rich Upper Level types and well-connected off-worlders. It was home to generations of movers and shakers. So when the war ended and the new regime moved in, the First Order elite wanted to be members. When they were politely but firmly refused, they employed Hosnia tactics. They unilaterally took over the club and made it their own. Ignore these guys or refuse them at your peril.

So the five centuries old stuffy establishment bastion Metropolitan Club became the First Order Officers’ Club overnight. In the process, its membership and its vibe became considerably younger. Among a certain set, its bar scene is the hottest ticket in town. Others wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with these thugs in uniforms. It is, Rey decides, a very fitting setting for Chancellor Hux’s birthday party.

She can hardly wait to see how tonight turns out.

When Rey arrives at the club primped and dressed to the nines, she presents herself to the doorman flanked by two bouncers. Tonight is a private party, she is told. “Are you on the list?” The doorman is polite but skeptical that she belongs. Reading the man’s disinterest, the trio of camera bots and the few press personnel hanging off to the side ignore Rey completely. No one seems to recognize the rebel Senator who made a splash earlier this week. 

“She’s on the list,” Hux’s assistant walks over to confirm. “Welcome, Senator. Sorry about the hold up.”

“Senator?” the doorman blinks. “Er . . . sorry, Miss. Go right in.” He nods to security who open the door. It all happens fast and the press don’t have time to recover. Rey slips in before anyone can think to take her picture. 

The scene inside can only be described as swanky fascist chic. Everywhere Rey looks, there are men in uniform with a drink in their hand talking loudly and gesturing broadly. As a rule, these First Order guys are the obnoxious type. Their small talk is all war stories and ambition. There are plenty of female guests, too. The ladies are artfully perched on a chair, draped at some man’s side, or posing in groups at the bar. Glancing around, Rey sees that there is a lot of young, firm skin on display tonight. If the men have brought the power, the women have brought the sex appeal. Short skirts that show off toned legs in sky high heels. Backless dresses cut low to the waist that tease the absence of a brassiere. Tight outfits that outline every curve and leave little to the imagination. By comparison, her plain dress is a bit prim, but Rey is fine with that. If she is conspicuous tonight, it is for her choice of the color white. All the other women seem to be sporting some version of red or black. 

All in all, the impression the crowd makes is young. If there is anyone over age fifty in the First Order, Rey has yet to meet them. Most everyone in leadership appears to be in their thirties and forties. Is that because Leader Snoke wanted his minions young, ambitious, and unquestioning? Or is it because he cleaned house of the Imperial veterans during his rise to power? Rey doesn’t know. But it’s clear that no one here has much experience. The whole war lasted four months, with hardly any actual fighting. Once Hosnia was destroyed and the Resistance crumbled, few local worlds put up much fight. Suddenly . . . shockingly . . . the brash First Order was in charge. And they have run amok ever since, led by their reclusive masked despot Kylo Ren.

“You need a drink, beautiful,” a man’s voice says from over her shoulder. Rey dutifully moves a bit so as not to block access to the pair of pretty women standing in front of her. 

“What’s you hurry?” the man’s voice says again. “Don’t run away before we’ve met.” And wait—is he talking to her?? Rey turns around. In her high heels, she’s eye to eye with a First Order major. And, yes, he is talking to her. The major is handsome in a blonde patrician way that matches his crisp Coruscant accent.

“Uh . . . hello,” flustered Rey tries a smile. 

The major introduces himself and commandeers a glass of champagne off a tray held by a circulating waiter droid. The major hands the glass to Rey as he lifts his own in a salute. “To the Chancellor.” 

“To the Chancellor.” Rey dutifully copies his move. She’s not here to make any political statements, only to fit in and have a good time.

The major gets right down to business. “Who are you and how do you know Army?”

“I’m Rey,” she has to shout a little over the party buzz. “I work in the Senate next door to the Chancellor’s office.”

“You here alone, Rey?”

“Yes.”

“First time at the Club?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. I would have remembered you. Welcome.”

Er . . . what next? Rey has very little experience in social situations, especially parties. And she has almost zero experience flirting with men. But gamely, she tries. “Do you know the Chancellor from his General days?” She’s hoping that is a safe question.

“I know Army from way back at the Academy. I served a stint under his father years ago. I had a post on the Supremacy after that.”

“Leader Snoke’s ship?”

“Yes,” the major confirms, looking pleased that she recognizes his importance. He launches into a longwinded description of his heroics at the Battle of Crait. The major is going on and on when a familiar voice interrupts. 

“There you are,” Chancellor Hux appears at her side. “Waving the white flag of surrender tonight, or is the color of that dress pure happenstance?”

“It’s just a dress.” Rey laughs a little. “I had no ulterior motive.”

“Then you’re the only one here who can say that,” Hux confides in a stage whisper. “The rest of us are all up to something.” He turns to the major and greets him with the harrassment that Rey now understands indicates that the Chancellor likes you. “Squee, who let you in? This is a classy joint. I told my people it was to be strictly A List.”

“Happy birthday, Army,” the major grins. “Now get lost so I can chat up Rey here. Find yourself another pretty girl.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hux warns. “She won’t be good for your image or your career. Rey used to be a wanted woman. She had the death sentence on all systems.”

Major Squee chokes and spits out his drink. “Er . . . really?” he asks blankly.

“Yes. By decree of Snoke himself. And don’t bore her about Crait. Rey was there. She could tell you a thing or two about the rebels’ escape as a firsthand eyewitness.”

The major is not slow on the uptake. His eyes narrow on her. “You’re a rebel,” he accuses. “But how—"

“Was a rebel,” Hux answers for her. 

“Yes, was a rebel,” Rey firmly repeats. She abandoned that allegiance years ago, notwithstanding her recent speech in the Senate. How ironic that Kylo Ren of all people wants her to reassert herself as his opposition.

Hux elaborates: “Ren pardoned her himself and then appointed her to the Senate. Bygones are bygones if you’re young and cute, apparently.”

“Ren’s a disgrace,” Squee doesn’t hold back. He looks askance at Rey now. “Is all of this true?”

She shrugs, doing her best to appear the blasé sophisticate. “Yes.”

The disapproving and flummoxed major stalks off.

“That got rid of him. Squee can be tedious. Come,” Hux tells Rey imperiously as he leads her by the hand across the crowded room. 

It’s slow going because the Chancellor is continually stopped by friends and well-wishers. Armitage Hux is loving the limelight, Rey sees. He’s had a few drinks, too. Drinking seems to make Hux only more Hux-like. He talks faster, not slower. His comments are more jarring and pointed, not less. His quips and sarcasm are even more groan worthy. But he’s having a great time and so is everyone else. 

Wide eyed, impressionable newbie Rey just takes it all in. Along the way across the room, they pass an elaborate spherical cake. It has a small black outfitted, red haired figure perched atop. Rey does a double take. Could it be? Surely not. 

“Is that—“ she points.

“Starkiller Base,” Hux confirms. “The site of my greatest victory. Yours too, right?” When Rey looks at him in confusion, he prompts her, “Don’t be modest, Senator. While I know you did not kill Snoke, you could have killed Ren. I found him flat on his back bleeding in the snow. Well done, well done,” the Chancellor gleefully commends. “Pity you did not finish the job. I might have left him there but the errand to collect him came from Leader Snoke himself. Next time,” he admonishes Rey sternly, “do us all a favor, and go for the coup de gras.”

“That is horrible.” Rey condemns the awful insensitivity of having a birthday cake commemorating genocide. “That is absolutely horrible.”

“I know. It looks nothing like me. I had to laugh before I cringed. But the baker tried. Points for effort,” Hux says blithely.

“I’m not talking about you on the cake,” Rey growls and glares. 

“What?” insouciant Hux asks coyly. “You don’t like chocolate?” 

“You know exactly why I dislike that cake. That is in exceedingly poor taste.”

“Oh, I assure you it will be delicious. Only the very best for tonight.” Hux resumes tugging her along now. He conducts them both past one of the ubiquitous camera droids as he leads them towards a lounge area. “Now then, you need more champagne. Let’s get you drunk and you can tell me all about your fight with Ren in the snow. He never did tell me the particulars of how you blew a hole clear through his side with only a lightsaber.”

They arrive at their destination: a nest of couches where a bevy of beauties are lounging. This is apparently where the birthday boy is holding court with a few cronies. Hux introduces her to the men—they are all military types save the Senator from Kuat—but he ignores the women. Are they purely decorative, or does Hux not remember their names? Rey can’t tell. Continuing his habit of stage direction, the Chancellor now maneuvers Rey to take a seat in his entourage. “Move over ladies. Make room for another,” he commands and everyone complies. And now, Rey is part of Hux’s retinue of eye candy.

From her vantage point seated on a sofa, Rey can see the whole party. Plus, she has a front row seat to the parade of celebrities and notables coming over to greet the Chancellor. Hux takes every chance to introduce her, making sure everyone knows she is Ren’s latest, most ridiculous appointment to the Senate. The reactions to her are predictably a bit mixed.

One man looks her over and asks, “How did a nice girl like you get involved with the Resistance?”

“Poor thing, she fell in with the wrong crowd,” Hux smirks.

“Who?”

“Luke Skywalker. But never fear. These days, she’s a happy warrior in my Senate. Ren put her office right next door to mine to make her my personal troll. Don’t be fooled by that pretty face. Turn your back and she’ll blow up your Starkiller. She’s not to be trusted.”

Another man speaks aloud the sentiments others won’t: “She was a rebel? It’s a wonder she’s alive.”

“Indeed,” the Chancellor relishes. “It was Ren’s idea. Did I mention that she’s also a Jedi with the magic Force?”

“Really?” the man backs away warily. His eyes dart to Hux. “I thought we were done with all that after Skywalker. Other than Ren, of course. The galaxy doesn’t need the Force.”

Hux agrees. “Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side. And a few star destroyers,” he adds upon second thought.

After a while, Rey finds Hux’s freakshow routine tedious. So when some random guy suggests, “Show us some party tricks, Senator. Levitate some fruit or something,” Rey offers an alternative.

“How about I demonstrate the Vader choke?” she smiles tightly.

The man frowns. “It’s bad form to kill the host.”

“The host? She’ll kill you first for sure,” Hux objects. “You’re the one who ticked her off.” Then he sighs, “She’s always a bit of a buzzkill, actually.”

“Am I?” Rey is the one frowning now.

“Yes, you are,” Hux contends. “You’re really good at disapproving looks. You have resting rebel face, I guess. Yes! That’s it! That’s the precise look!” he points.

Rey just smiles blithely. She’s determined to pull off tonight with aplomb. Meanspirited snark is apparently part of the fun. Bored with Armitage Hux, Rey turns her attention to the other women. They are Senate staffers, out of uniform military officers, and girlfriends and sisters of men in attendance. They all have one thing in common: they adore Armitage Hux. Isn’t he marvelous? So handsome. So smart. Such a great hero and role model. All this admiration is lost on Rey. She can’t see this guy as anything other than a glib war criminal right now. 

But if the women are a bit fawning, the men are even worse. In the ultra-competitive world of the First Order, Army Hux is a bona fide celebrity. His peers all seem to want to bask in the reflected glory of his success. It’s a bit like a cult of personality, Rey thinks. From her vantage point in the Resistance, she hadn’t realized just how popular Armitage Hux is. 

One person who is definitely not popular with this crowd is Kylo Ren. This is a tough crowd for the young Supreme Leader, even though these are his own supporters. Rey overhears more than one comment that verges on treason and most convey a tone of contempt. The general attitude is that Kylo is making the First Order look bad with his displays of temper and reclusive tendencies. Moreover, on a substantive level, Kylo is reigning in their excesses, which is completely unnecessary. They were the winners, right? Why temper their goals now that the war is over? These gleeful arrivistes aim to bend the galaxy to their will. 

That night, for the first time, it occurs to Rey that Kylo might be more moderate than his First Order brethren. 

In fact, Rey can’t help but compare Kylo and Hux in all sorts of ways, even superficial ones. Handsome Hux looks as aristocratic as ever tonight to Rey’s eyes, even when not sporting his stately Palpatine callback Senate robes. Tonight, he’s wearing something that looks like a blank version of his old general’s uniform. In black, of course. The man has a military stamp on his bearing that civilian life cannot erase. It’s the farthest thing from the wild hair and careless baggy attire she saw Kylo wearing last night. But frankly, Kylo is the more appealing of the two men, Rey judges. Kylo is far more distinctive and less contrived. Every bit his own man, Kylo never meets expectations. And that’s sort of the problem, Rey realizes glumly.

She can’t help but notice how Army Hux leaps to explain her origins to everyone she meets. The shock factor is clearly part of his ploy, but Rey suspects that his real goal is to make sure everyone knows her existence can be blamed on Kylo Ren. Rey is just one more quixotic decision by the unpredictable, unsatisfactory Supreme Leader. Basically, Rey concludes, her presence at this party is a conspicuous way to discredit Kylo. 

She looks around at the boisterous crowd and decides she hates this party. There is an ugly underside to all this glamor and a lurking meanness to this frivolity that completely steals the fun. Rey wants to enjoy herself, but she can’t. She doesn’t like these people’s vision for the future, she abhors their message, and she finds their methods to be unacceptable. She glances across the room and her eyes fall once again on the Starkiller cake. That clinches it. Suddenly, Rey is ready to leave. This isn’t nearly as much fun as she hoped it would be. 

She feels sort of stupid now for being excited to come. A little ashamed, too. What would Finn and Rose think if they knew? Rey doesn’t belong here and she never wants to belong. More than anything right now, Rey wants to run away back to Dantooine. To an insignificant life far away from these people and all that they represent. A week in Coruscant as a Senator is enough.

Rey stands to approach the Army Hux. She schools herself to be polite. “Goodnight, Chancellor. Happy birthday.”

“You’re leaving?” he objects. “But you just got here.”

“Thanks for including me. I had a great time,” she lies.

“But we haven’t cut the cake.”

There’s no way Rey is eating that cake. But she keeps trying to exit gracefully. “Enjoy your party. I’ll see you at the office.”

“Alright.” Hux actually looks kind of disappointed, but he recovers fast as he starts following her out. “Come by and have a cup of caf on Monday. But only if you promise not to steal my coffee maker,” he starts setting conditions.

“It’s a deal.”

“Shall I get someone to fly you home?”

“No, I’m fine,” she declines quickly. There’s no way she’s letting any of these people see where she lives. She’s had enough ridicule for one night.

Hux walks her all the way to the door. “You look beautiful,” he tells her when they exit the club and stand in the breezeway. The media types are gone now. It’s just the valet guys, a few chauffeurs, and the security detail looking on. 

Beautiful. That comment throws her for a loop. It takes some away some of her annoyance at Hux and his followers. No man has ever called Rey beautiful before. With Kylo, it’s all about power and the Force. Rey stammers, “Thank you.” She nervously tucks a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.” She can feel herself blushing bright red.

Hux nods. “I wanted to tell you that earlier but there were too many people around.”

“You mean you were too busy dissing me,” Rey observes tartly.

“I only tease people I like.”

Now, Rey feels herself blushing more. “I should go.”

“Are they pulling around your speeder? What’s taking them so long?”

“I didn’t come in a speeder. I walked from the transport stop.”

Hux makes a face. He snaps his fingers at one of the loitering men. “You there from the Palace. Yes, you in the uniform. Take her home.”

“That’s not necessary,” Rey declines.

“I insist.”

“It’s okay.”

“The transports are full of drunk guys on Saturday nights. Or so I’ve heard,” Hux equivocates. “I have never actually attempted public transportation and I never shall.”

She relents to end the argument. She mostly just wants to get away. “Alright. He can drop me off. Go back to your guests, Chancellor. You throw a great party,” she lies again.

“Army. Call me Army. My friends call me Army.”

“Goodnight Army,” she nods.

Rey gets dropped off at her at her apartment building. She enters her place ready to brood. Feeling dejected and more than a little foolish, she throws down her fancy little clutch. She’s reaching to undo her overpriced shoes when she hears her name from behind. “Rey.”

She jumps and her heart skips a beat. 

It’s Kylo, of course, when she whirls. 

Now, her heart skips another beat. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighs when she collects herself. The Supreme Leader might be the most feared man in the universe, but he is vastly preferable to a real intruder. “I didn’t think you would be back twice in one day.” Rey slants him a look. Last night’s argument with his stinging observations is still fresh in her mind. “I don’t suppose you came to apologize.”

“No. I meant everything I said. I just didn’t mean it to hurt you.” Kylo stands there shifting his weight looking uncharacteristically tentative. “I’m not good with people,” he states the obvious.

“Yeah, me neither.” In fact, right now Rey kind of hates all people. Tonight, this lonely girl just wants to be alone. 

“Where have you been?” His eyes rake over her appearance. “You’ve been out,” he concludes and he doesn’t seem happy about it. 

“Yeah, look, thanks for the water but I don’t think we should see each other any longer.” All they do is fight. She’s not up for a repeat of last night. 

“Who’s the guy?” Kylo hisses.

“What??” She’s not following.

“Who’s the guy you’re so dressed up for?”

“Oh. I went to Hux’s birthday party. It was awful.”

Kylo regards her stone faced. “Hux. You were out with Chancellor Hux.”

“I wish I’d stayed home. Army had a cake in the shape of the Starkiller. It was horrible,” she shakes her head as she remembers. “Just horrible.”

Kylo’s brow lowers. “You call him Army now?”

Oblivious Rey is still complaining about the cake. “He called it a great victory. They were all laughing about it. Like those people on Hosnia didn’t mean anything. It was so crass . . .” Suddenly, Rey feels as if she might cry. And she’s not sure if it’s because she’s disappointed that her first party was a letdown or if she’s sad about Hosnia and the state of the galaxy. “I think I hate tonight,” she whispers as hot tears suddenly blur her vision.

Kylo relaxes his stance and moves closer. He assures her in a quiet voice, “Hux and his crowd of suck ups don’t matter.”

“They do,” Rey makes a face. She’s blinking fast. 

“Not as much as they think they do. Not so long as I’m in charge. My Empire needs more Light to counteract those zealots. That’s why I need your help--”

“Don’t start,” she cuts him off.

“Okay, I won’t,” Kylo surprises her by backing down. “Come,” he commands. “I have a surprise for you.”

“More water?”

“Better. Ever seen a vintage flash speeder?”

Rey looks up and shakes her head. “Only on the holonet.”

“Well, I just stole one.”

“You did?”

“Care to take it for a spin?”


	7. Chapter 7

“Check it out,” Kylo motions to his stolen craft like he’s the actual proud owner. “A Seraph-class, chromium plated, pre-Clone Wars mint condition collector’s item. Not a scratch on her.”

“Wow.” Rey’s eyes light up with appreciation. “It’s beautiful.” She begins pacing the perimeter of the speeder, giving it the once-over with her expert mechanic’s eye. “Look at the curves on the hood. And the fins! I love the old school styling. Kylo, this looks like it should belong to some business mogul with secret Separatist leanings. I mean, this is old. Like really old.”

He’s pleased with her reaction. It confirms he finally made a good move with this girl. Plus, she had looked close to tears moments ago. He’s glad to cheer her up. “I knew you liked old stuff,” he explains. “I figured I would show you something old that wasn’t battle scrap. Hop in,” he instructs as he slides behind the controls.

Rey wastes no time getting in. “Where are we going?” she asks with an easy smile. He loves Rey when she’s like this—with her guard down, just being herself. Not poised for an argument and ready for combat. She’s just so normal and likeable. Like the girl next door if next door is Jakku.

“We’re going up. Where we can go full throttle and see how fast it goes.”

“You’re on!” Rey endorses this plan.

But before they can go joyriding, they first have to get to the Upper Levels. And that means cutting through Saturday night Coruscant traffic. As they plod along, Kylo makes conversation, trying to keep things light. “So the party was bad?

“Awful,” Rey confirms. “But Hux was having a great time. He’s thirty-eight,” she reports. 

Kylo smirks. “Actually, he’s forty but he loves to cultivate his image as a young wunderkind.” Even in the youth oriented First Order, Armitage Hux was very young to be promoted to the rank of general at thirty-four. Hux was a favorite of Snoke’s, and for years that led Hux to fancy himself something of a rival to Kylo. But the role of a general is nothing like the role of the Apprentice.

“How old are you?” Rey asks.

“Thirty-three.” Kylo is technically young but he sure doesn’t feel it. He has way too many responsibilities to be carefree. That’s why sneaking out to steal speeders to hang out with Rey feels so satisfyingly subversive. It’s the counterbalance to the rest of his day. And where does he go from here? The problem with ruling it all at thirty-three is that there is nothing left to aspire to. And with no Master, Kylo has no one to be accountable to. There is only history to answer to now. That’s one more reason he needs Rey. She can be his foil. No one talks to him like she does, and that’s refreshing.

“How old are you?” he asks Rey.

“I turned twenty-three last month . . . I think,” she answers. “I’m not exactly sure. Birthdays weren’t a big deal on Jakku. And, well, the past is a bit murky still.”

“I understand,” he says softly. Kylo saw how bleak and lonely her childhood was when he looked into her mind on the Starkiller. It’s a wonder Rey is as well-adjusted as she is.

“Tonight was the first real party I’ve ever attended,” she explains, sounding a bit forlorn still. “I thought it would be more fun.”

“I hate parties.”

“Yeah, I think I do too.”

Enough of that downer topic. Kylo moves on. “You didn't find a new place to live today, did you?”

“Nope.” 

“Are you going to move?” he asks pointedly.

“Nope.”

“Why not?” 

She shrugs. “I don’t want to waste the credits.”

“You’d be wasting my credits,” he points out.

“It’s still waste,” his frugal scavenger reminds him. 

He thought this would be her view. So, he has an alternative. “What if I had a solution that wouldn’t cost you any credits?”

She shoots him a skeptical look. “Everything costs credits.”

“This would be free.”

Now, Rey looks really skeptical. “If you’re about to offer me a room in your palace, the answer is no.” 

He knows better than to do that. “Let me show you an alternative. You can think about it.”

“Maybe,” she is noncommittal. “But first, I want to go flying.”

“Alright, then let’s go.”

Once they hit the Upper Level, Kylo starts putting the vintage speeder through its paces, testing its turning radius, brakes, and acceleration. It was originally manufactured as a bit of a hot rod, so it doesn’t disappoint. Soon, he is showboating around while Rey eggs him on. 

After about ten minutes of whooping and laughing, Rey asserts herself. “Pull over. It’s my turn.” 

Kylo slows the speeder as he asks, “Can you handle this?” It’s a serious question. He has no idea how experienced Rey is at piloting a craft like this.

She scoffs at his misgivings. “I can fly circles around you,” she boasts. And he half believes her. She has the Force, after all. “I built a speeder out of spare parts on Jakku. She wasn’t pretty, but she could move.” 

Kylo pulls the ship up to a halt. “Alright, scoot over.”

“No. Just park it and we’ll switch.”

“It’s got racing pedals,” he explains. “They are adjusted for my height and I’m foot strapped right now. Make it easy, Rey. Just jump over here and steer. There’s room. We’ll do this together,” he offers. They were great together fighting Snoke’s guards in the throne room. Surely, piloting this speeder together will be easy. And fun. 

She looks a little dubious, but agrees. “Okay, I guess.” Rey slides over and basically jumps in his lap as she takes the controls. “Ready?”

“Yes. Head for the Senate,” he instructs.

“Which way is that?”

“East. Cut over the Palace.”

“Isn't that restricted air space?”

“Just skirt the perimeter. We’ll be fine.”

She’s a little tentative at first with him at the pedals and her at the controls, but they quickly get the hang of it. They might not communicate well with words, but they are both intuitive flyers. They cruise along, looping and swerving as they go. Rey banks hard right and then barrel rolls the speeder over the Palace in a cheeky move Han Solo would endorse. 

This is just what he needs, Kylo decides as he listens to her giggle. Some silly, reckless fun to take the edge off his intensity. Plus, Rey’s dress is hiked up a little now, the wind is whipping at her loose hair, and she smells so good as he leans in close. Will she mind if he puts his hands at her waist? It’s sort of like an embrace. Damn, this is excellent. Best date ever. Now if they could just hit some bumpy air again so she could bounce up and down in his lap once more. That was super hot. He’s going to be fantasizing about that a bit differently later tonight . . . 

Rey is all mechanic now. “I want one of these. I could boost the engines some and work on the tork—“

“Nah. You fly a ship like this as it comes,” he disagrees. “No special modifications. That ruins the retro nature of it.” It should be old school inside and out.

“Purist,” she scoffs. There’s probably no such thing as a scavenger purist, he realizes. This girl has had to make do and retrofit things her whole life. She’s flexible and pragmatic at her core. And that’s the furthest thing from the crusading Skywalker clan he’s from. There isn’t a lot of compromise in his family. 

“Oh, no,” she groans. 

“What?” Are they out of fuel or something?

“We’ve got the cops on us.”

“Where?” He swivels around in his seat.

“To the left coming fast.”

“Fuck.” He squints into the darkness at the incoming official transport. “Well, it’s just one.”

“For now. We can outrun them,” Rey decides. “But if you want, I can just pull over and you can do your big reveal as Leader Ren.”

He considers a moment. “I’ve never been the type to surrender.” The Skywalkers are more the martyr type.

That makes her laugh. “Then give us some gas. Maybe we can lose them if we dive down.”

“Alright, babe.” He leans in to whisper in her ear. “Are we doing this? Really doing this?” He’s going to flee from his own police? Well, why not? If anyone can, he can. 

She nods firmly. Clearly, this girl is an adrenaline junkie like himself. “We’re doing this.”

“Okay then.” He wraps his arms around her torso to hold her close as he stomps hard on the accelerator. “Don’t get us killed,” he warns into her ear.

Sure enough, the single police transport now calls in backup.

“Reinforcements,” Rey spots the additional transport joining their daredevil high-speed chase. “But we can still lose them.”

“You’re good. Really good,” Kylo compliments her weaving in and out of traffic. He couldn’t do it better himself.

Rey is in the zone, focused on her task. “Ease up on the next turn. I’m going to lose them with a dive. Full throttle as we pull out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It doesn’t work. The chasing transports are now moving to hem them in, herding them closer and closer to the other traffic in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. “When do they start shooting?” Rey asks breathlessly.

“I’m surprised they aren’t shooting already.” No one has shot at him in ages. Kylo actually misses the rush of combat. But this is fun. This is lots of fun. He needs more fun in his life. 

“So, what do we do now?” she wails. “This isn’t working.”

“Head for the Palace.”

“What??” she half turns to glare at him. “They’ll start shooting for sure!”

“Just do it. Head for the Palace and pull over.” If he’s going to reveal himself, it won’t be in the middle of a crowded Upper Level esplanade with hundreds of gawkers snapping pictures on their coms. “Let me handle this.”

“Wait--are you going to start killing people?” she yelps as she hangs a hard right and heads for the Imperial Palace.

“I don’t know. I might.”

“But—“

“Let me handle this. Just set us down right inside on the back landing pad.”

“Oh, Gods they’re shooting.” A warning shot zings right over his head. Then, another. “And look! Up ahead—there’s more come to intercept us.”

Those aren’t regular cops, he sees. Those are Palace guards mobilizing fast for their incoming threat. “We’re fine,” he counsels, deliberately trying to keep her calm. “Just set it down and follow my lead.”

“I should have stayed at Hux’s party,” she wails as they slow. “Now, I’m going to get arrested.”

“Let me handle this. Stay quiet,” he orders under his breath. 

“Freeze!” Blasters are drawn and aimed immediately as they come to a halt. “Put your hands up and keep them where we can see them!” a stern voice orders. 

A bright floodlight is now aimed at them, blinding him. But the Force tells Kylo that there are two cops approaching to arrest him. In addition, four speeders from the Palace are pulling up fast from the air and on the ground with lights flashing and sirens blaring. 

Rey does as she is told, hissing under her breath, “Do something! I can’t get arrested. I’m a Senator.”

“Nonsense,” Kylo reassures her. “All the best crooks are politicians.”

“You too, flyboy!” the lead officer hollers as he slowly approaches. “Get your hands off her and reach for the sky. Put your hands up and keep them where we can see them. No sudden moves or you’re both dead. Got it? This isn’t the New Republic. We don’t set for stun.”

A voice behind the brightness calls out, “Sarge, I ran the plates on the speeder. It was reported stolen an hour ago.”

“So felony theft plus resisting arrest plus reckless flying and entering restricted air space,” the lead officer nods. He has come into view now. The cop has a very lethal looking blaster pointed right at him. “You two are in a heap of trouble,” the man informs them ominously.

“I’ve never been arrested,” Rey whispers nervously. 

“You’re not getting arrested,” Kylo mutters back. That’s not how this absolute power thing works. 

“You two think you can tear through this world and flagrantly disobey the law??” the lead officer keeps approaching cautiously while his partner covers him. “I said get your hands up, flyboy! I’m not asking again.”

“I’m actually a fan of law and order,” Kylo deadpans as he watches the Palace guards pull up and spill out. He and Rey are quickly surrounded by guards with weapons drawn. “Order is sort of my thing, actually.”

“Shhh!!!!” Rey hushes him. “You’re making it worse!”

“Wise guy, eh? Tell that to the judge.”

“What have we got here?” The ranking member of the Palace guard group swaggers over to take charge. 

“Two idiots joyriding in a stolen speeder through restricted air space,” the head cop reports. “We’ll take them in unless you want to handle it. Your call.”

The Palace guy walks the perimeter of the scene while his men all take up position. “Is that a flash speeder?” the man squints at their stolen ship. “That looks like a vintage flash speeder.”

“It is,” Kylo confirms. “I only steal the best,” he smirks.

“Sweet,” the Palace guy lets loose a low whistle in appreciation of the speeder. “I’ve always wanted to fly one of those. Yeah, we’ll take them in,” he decides, telling the local cops, “We’ll handle it from here.” Then, he turns to his men. “Guys, I call dibs on flying it to impound.”

“The Hell you will,” Kylo bristles. “This is my ride. I stole it first.”

“Shhhh! Get your hands up,” Rey hisses. She’s very rattled and it shows on her face and in the Force.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” the Palace guy steps up and begins issuing orders. “You there—young woman. You first. Climb out of that speeder. Nice and slow. No sudden moves.”

“Officer, we can explain,” Rey begins as she follows instructions. “There’s been a terrible mistake . . . if we could just explain . . . ”

Ignoring her, the men drag her to the side, pat her down, and demand identification. 

This time, Rey tries a rudimentary Force trick instead of words. “You don’t need to see my identification.” It’s a bad call. There’s no way that a mind trick will work on guys like these. They are not simpleminded, easily influenced stormtroopers. Still, she tries again. “You don’t need to see my identification,” Rey says in a slow, spooky voice for maximum effect.

Kylo snorts. 

Rey whirls to glare at him. “Hey! I don’t see you doing anything—"

“Cuff her,” the lead guard orders. “We’ll get her ID when we process her back at the station. And stun the wise guy. I’ve heard enough out of him.” 

“No! Wait!” Rey yelps.

Again, she is ignored. The Palace guard nearest Kylo sets for stun, aims, and fires. But the blaster shot hangs buzzing in the air when Kylo freezes it automatically. 

“What the??” The man looks very confused.

And he shouldn’t be. Freezing blaster bolts is Kylo Ren’s signature move. He’s famous across the galaxy for that trick. Are all these guys slow on the uptake? Does no one recognize him out of uniform? Maybe it’s because he’s sitting down, Kylo hypothesizes. He leaps out of the speeder and now the men covering him instantly open fire at the aggressive movement. Kylo freezes those shots too. 

“Get him!” The guards start backing away as they fire from all directions. But the shots hang frozen in the air in a thicket of buzzing plasma. 

“Who the Hell is this guy?” a frustrated voice yells. “We need backup NOW!”

“It’s the beard,” Rey gripes from where she stands off to the side in handcuffs. “No one recognizes you with the beard. And they’re used to the mask and the uniform.”

“Maybe this will help.” Kylo’s sword springs to his hand to light. It’s the iconic red crossguard sword that won the galaxy. Surely, this will be a big clue, right?

Thankfully, it works. 

“Uh . . . guys??“

“Oh, no . . .” 

“We’re dead.”

“Oh, fuck!” the Palace guard in charge speaks aloud the sentiments of everyone shooting. “Stand down!” the man hollers. “Hold your fire! HOLD YOUR FIRE!” The ashen face man turns to him and stutters out, “Y-Your Ex-cellency—”

Kylo cuts him off. “Shut up or I’ll kill you.” He stalks around to the fifty or more hanging blaster bolts. He bats them down with his sword. They hit the ground where they leave scorch marks but do no harm. Then, looking over at Rey, Kylo loudly complains, “Someone uncuff my girlfriend.” 

The men fall all over themselves to comply. 

Rey shakes out her hands and flexes her wrists. “I’m not his girlfriend,” she informs everyone testily. “We’re just friends. That’s all.”

“Sorry, Miss,” the lead Palace guard looks as contrite as a man can be. “I know you tried to explain, Miss.”

“Senator. She’s a Senator,” Kylo discloses just to tweak Rey further. “My girlfriend is a Senator.”

Rey glares at him. “I’m not your girlfriend, nerfherder!”

“Careful, or you really will get arrested,” Kylo chides. “Public disparagement of the head of state is a punishable crime in my Empire. You want those cuffs back on?”

Rey looks away and mutters, “I wish we had won the war.”

“But you didn't,” he reminds her. “I did.”

The police officers and Palace guards who surround them are all trying hard not to gape. It’s almost comical how earnest some of them appear. No doubt they all fear that he will kill them at any moment.

“Anything else?” Kylo asks their onlookers. “Because I’m ready to go. You have wasted my time and now my girlfriend is pissed at me.” It was all fun and games until someone started shooting. That always happens with him. “Are we done here?”

“Yes, Sir!” the lead guy from the Palace answers with a showy First Order salute. The others quickly follow suit.

Rey sighs and rolls her eyes. “I should never have left Hux’s party.”

“I’ll take you back,” Kylo offers mischievously on a whim. “We can go back and I’ll crash—“

“No!” Rey objects immediately. “Turn that sword off and take me home!” she demands imperiously, all but stamping her foot for emphasis. “I’ve had enough excitement for tonight.”

“Yes, dear,” Kylo meekly submits with maximum sarcasm. 

“She really is his girlfriend,” one of the guards observes a bit too loudly. It makes him smirk. 

Rey just tosses her hair over her shoulder in a gesture of supreme female irritation. “This is the worst night ever.” 

“Nah,” he counters. “It was fun until these guys almost accidentally staged a coup. Shall I kill them?” he asks just to see everyone including Rey flinch. “That’s the only way to ensure this will be kept quiet.”

“NO!” Rey shouts. “I forbid it!”

“As you wish,” he defers as everyone exhales a sigh of relief.

While they stand around not knowing what to do next, Kylo busies himself with the wiring in the speeder console. After a moment, pouting Rey stalks over to get in. Damn she looks hot in that silky white dress that clings and shifts as she prances in her heels. Her hair is mussed, her expression murderous, but her shiny lip gloss is still in place. It’s sexy-meets-mad and he loves it. And come to think of it, those handcuffs were kind of hot, too.

“Hold on, babe,” he mutters. “I’ve gotta hot wire this again to start it up.”

“Hurry up.” Rey slides into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

Her close presence is distracting. Kylo glances over at her legs and loses concentration. “Owwww!” Sparks fly as he accidentally connects the wrong two wires. He swears. That hurt. That really hurt. Kylo shakes his fried fingers. “Owwww!”

Rey peers over at what he’s doing. “That’s all wrong. Who taught you how to hot wire a ship?”

“Han Solo.”

“The Rebellion general?” one of the cops asks in disbelief. 

“No, the smuggler,” Rey corrects without missing a beat. She shoos Kylo out of the way. “Let me do it. You suck at stealing things.”

He’s indignant. “I stole the galaxy, didn’t I?”

Rey ignores him. She fiddles a few seconds and the speeder starts with a roar that decrescendos to a low purr. At this success, Rey flashes a triumphant smile that takes his breath away. Damn, this girl is something. Beauty, brains, and the Force all in one. What more could a man want?

Kylo leans over and shows her a rare grin. “That’s my scavenger girl,” he commends her happily.

“Do you want a police escort, Sir?” the lead guard calls to him. 

“No,” Kylo orders as they take off. He’s had enough law enforcement for tonight.

“Wait—I said take me home,” Rey grumbles when he soars towards the fancy residential area adjacent to the Senate District. 

“I have something to show you first,” Kylo reminds her as he heads for the top of one of the apartment spires. He swoops the speeder down to land at the uppermost penthouse.

“What is this?” Rey asks in confusion. Looking around at their surroundings, she decides, “This speeder looks like it belongs here.”

“This place is probably about the same age as the speeder,” Kylo agrees as he jumps out. “Come on. Take a look.” It’s been a long, long time since he has been here himself. He bought this place on a sentimental whim, without a real purpose for owning it. But now Rey has given him a reason. 

In the competitive world of luxury Coruscant real estate, this apartment checks all the boxes. The location can’t be beat. It is in a prestigious, stately pre-Clone Wars building in the heart of the Upper Level Senate District. It has the wide, gracious rooms and entertainment friendly floorplan of a bygone era. The views of the nearby Palace are perfect. And best all off, this apartment has that very rare amenity which well-heeled buyers leap at: a small private landing pad and attached terrace. For among the rich and powerful, privacy is the ultimate luxury. Here, you can come and go as you please without anyone noticing. 

“What is this place?” Rey asks again as she wanders the ornate terrace colonnade with its pattern of circles inlaid on the stone floor. She pauses to take in the tall winged statues flanking the open veranda. As far as outdoor living spaces go, this is top notch. Rey now faces out to admire the impressive urban vista. “It’s beautiful. I’ve only seen places like this on the holonet.” 

Kylo walks past her to slap his hand on the security scanner. The exterior door opens to admit them inside. “I own it. It’s mine now. But it’s been in the family for a while.” Since his grandmother the Senator from Naboo and her secret Jedi husband lived here in an illicit love nest during the Clone Wars. This once was young Darth Vader’s home, before the Dark times, before the Empire. And before the castle on Mustafar. 

“This is yours?” Rey is taken aback. Then she grins. “Why’d you build that palace? I’d live here instead.” 

“Do you like it?” He hopes she likes it. He really wants her to like this.

“Of course,” she nods. “It’s amazing. But why are you showing me this?”

“Come inside,” he bids her. “Look around.” 

They wander in silence through the vacant rooms with elegant, high ceilings. Unlike the angular design of the Imperial era onward, the opulent aesthetic of this period is full of curves. There are little details everywhere, in contrast to the stark sleekness of the current time. All this rich filigree is jarring to the modern eye at first, but welcome too. The apartment was constructed at the height of the Old Republic, when Light reigned triumphant. When conflicts were brewing and not yet ripe. When peace was an effective veneer over the galaxy’s problems.

The apartment is historic, but has been meticulously maintained through the years. Kylo has no way of knowing how much of the current interior is the same as when his grandparents lived here, but he likes to think at least some of his grandmother’s taste remains. He has often wondered what Lady Vader was like personally. The public records that remain only speak to her professional accomplishments. Her true self is a mystery.

“It’s like stepping back in time,” Rey says softly. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “That’s why I like it here.” It could not be further from the feel of Darth Vader’s Hellscape mancave on Mustafar. His grandfather’s life before and after the loss of his wife and the founding of the Empire could not be more different. Knowing that makes Kylo feel a bit better about his own tendency to veer to extremes. 

He turns to Rey. “I want you to live here. It’s a much better choice than where you are now.” He feels a bit stupid not stashing Rey here in the first place. But he had wanted to give her as much freedom as possible to begin her new life on Coruscant. He just never dreamed she’d choose the Lower Levels. 

Rey frowns and looks annoyed. “I can’t afford this. I can’t even come close to affording this.” 

“Sure, you can. It’s free.” 

Rey raises an eyebrow. “Nothing is free.” 

“This apartment is. You can live here rent free.”

Her eyes narrow at this offer. “So, I’m your kept woman, is that it?” Suddenly, Rey looks very uncomfortable.

“I dragged you here from Dantooine. The least I can do is pay to house you.” 

She shakes her head. “I don’t like this. Where I am is fine. I . . . uh . . . I don’t like what this implies.” 

Kylo looks her in the eyes to reassure, “It’s not like that. This is a friend helping a friend.”

“You called me your girlfriend to those cops,” she reminds him. Rey is shifting her weight nervously and avoiding his eyes.

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d be moving you into the Palace,” he asserts. “Look, this is safe. It’s convenient to your office. It’s convenient for me. It will make joyriding a lot easier,” he points out.

Rey recoils. “I’m never doing that again. Once was enough.” 

“Next time, we’ll go to space and fly some real ships,” he promises. “That way, there will be no cops and no bystanders to worry about. Rey, you’re an excellent pilot. I’d love to take you on in a mock dogfight.” That comment makes her thaw a bit, so Kylo presses his case. “Please say you’ll live here. Someone should live here.” 

“I don’t belong here. I’m not the Upper Level type.” 

“You look like you belong here,” he protests softly.

She brushes him off. This girl can’t take a compliment. “That’s just the dress.”

“I like that dress.” Rey is gorgeous tonight, even now when she is biting her lip and looking both confounded and fretful.

“Why are you doing this?” she demands. “Really, I want to know. What are you after with this apartment and the Senate? Tell me the truth.”

Okay, here’s the moment for his big pitch. At least this time, he’s not running after her hollering like a madman as he makes it. “Give me another chance, Rey. I’m more than all the awful things you know about me. Like you’re more than just a desert scavenger.” 

“Are you asking me to forgive you?” She’s perplexed.

“I’m asking you to be the Light in my Empire. Be a moral conscience in my Senate.”

“Yeah, you told me that at the outset, but this is more than that, isn’t it?”

With a deep breath, he nods yes. “I want you to be the Light for me personally. Be the friend I need. That way, you’re not alone and neither am I.” It will be how they promised one another through the Force bond years ago. He loved that moment. But, of course, angry Luke Skywalker had to blow up her hut and ruin it.

“I’m not your girlfriend.” Rey seems really troubled by that label, so Kylo backs off. He’s bargaining now. 

“We can start small. Just fun like tonight.”

She looks so uneasy still. Her eyes glance around. “I don’t like what this implies.”

“It doesn’t imply anything. Just think about it.”

“Yeah, okay. I guess.” 

It’s not much, but it’s something to go on. It’s real progress compared to their past screaming matches and duel. It has Kylo encouraged and that has him aggressively angling for more. As usual, he never knows when to stop. Moved by the romantic spell of his grandparents’ secret urban aerie, he hazards a risk.

“Find the Force with me. Like before.” 

Rey’s eyes widen and then narrow. “That’s not a good idea—"

“Find the Force. Find the Light. Please.” He’s not too proud to beg. “I just want to feel it with you.” He edges closer. “Show me the Light like you did on Luke’s island.” 

“Will it reactivate that bond?” She’s concerned. “Because I don’t want to have to deal with that bond thing again.”

“Snoke bridged our minds and he’s gone. There’s no risk.”

“Are you sure?”

No. But Kylo nods anyway. “You’ve seen the conflict in me. Help me deal with it, Rey. Share the Light with me.”

She looks torn. 

“I am too Dark these days,” he confesses. “I need the Light. You once said you would help me. Help me now, Rey. Take pity on me when I feel the call to the Light.”

After a brief moment of indecision, she relents. She’s compassionate like that. This is a girl who took in a lost droid in the desert because she felt sorry for it. “Okay. Just this once. But it’s been a long time since I did this. I’m not sure I still know how.”

Kylo offers her his hands and she accepts them tentatively. “Reach out with your feelings,” he whispers. He does the same. “Oh, good. Perfect,” he approves as he feels the buzz in the back of his head that comes from accessing the Force. “Hold steady,” he instructs. Then he lunges into her mind. 

“OH!” Rey gasps. She physically pulls back. But touch promotes the mental connection, so Kylo follows her, grabbing back her hands. He’s clawing at her now, desperate to deepen this feeling of wallowing in her mind. Rey is so Light. So intrinsically good. So innately fair and just. If Jakku couldn’t steal the hope from this girl, nothing can. She may lie to herself that she doesn’t care and she’s given up. But the Force says otherwise. And so does she when she recoils from oily Hux and his gleeful extremists. 

Oh Gods, the feel of this girl’s mind. This is everything he needs. Kylo clasps her to him bodily in a crushing bearhug. He has one hand spread across the back of her head and the other across her back to hold her flush to his chest. His cheek lays on the top of her head as he burrows his mind deeply into hers. 

She was discarded and unwanted by everyone including Skywalker. Those fools! Yeah, she’s a mess, but he’s also a mess, so he doesn’t care. Her Light is true even if it’s not pristine. Like her hardscrabble life, her Force has seen compromises. But at her core, Rey is good. And that fills a need deep within his conflicted soul. Her Light shines down into the hidden depths of his despair, flooding his self-doubt and inner guilt with hope. Skywalker probably feared he would drag Rey down into Darkness with him. But Snoke saw the true risk—that she might forever anchor him in the Light. 

He’s Kylo Ren, the erstwhile Ben Solo, and he’s the almost Jedi, turned neo Sith. He was raised in the Light with lurking Dark proclivities. And now, he is Dark with a strong repressed streak of Light. The truth of his existence is that no matter which side of the Force he chooses, Kylo will inevitably be drawn to the other. And that’s not a bad thing, he has decided. It’s the way of the Force to seek balance in all things. And with no Master or family left to berate him, Kylo is determined to accept himself as he is.

He cannot hate the Light any more than he can hate himself. Snoke might have wanted to snuff out hope, but his Apprentice never did. He respects the Light’s strength and ability, even if he eschews its dogma and restrictions. He knows that the Light is eternal. It is one half of the energy field that binds the universe together, and it cannot be eradicated any more that all life in the universe can be destroyed. Life finds a way, and the Light endures. It will never be permanently defeated. Only a proud fool like Snoke would seek such an impossible goal. 

What his mother and his uncle could never see is that if the Light wins, ultimately everyone loses. Because then Darkness eventually rises again and the whole damn thing repeats itself. Snoke understood this and accepted the cycles in the Force. But his Apprentice took it one step further with the insight that perhaps you should help the Force to reach an equilibrium. That the goal isn’t for one side to win, but for both sides to reconcile with one another.

The Force is the Force, Kylo has decided. It is a continuum from Light to Dark. One side cannot exist without the other. And the distinction is somewhat arbitrary. Because wherever the Light shines bright, it casts a shadow. And even in the deepest, Darkest of places, a simple spark can illuminate. The two sides of the Force are best understood in relation to one another, he firmly believes. And that is why balance is his goal. 

It was never Snoke’s goal. And that’s why Snoke had to go. 

Kylo learned all he could from the manipulative mastermind and then killed him when the opportunity arose. Snoke had valuable wisdom and considerable talents, but in the end he was disappointing. Kylo grew past his Master in the Force far more quickly than he ever expected. He stayed the Apprentice anyway, seeking to learn his Master’s secular skills. Snoke was a whiz at organization and a strategic genius. Plus, he had deep pockets to finance the First Order. But in the end, wily old Snoke had more brains than Force. He knew it. Kylo knew it. Then Kylo proved it to save Rey. 

This girl he clings so tightly to now is the answer to it all. She has to be. Long before Snoke bridged their minds, he and Rey were on a collision course with one another. That’s not luck. That’s no accident. That’s the Force, he knows.

For like every Dark soul who has ever lived, Kylo Ren secretly craves the Light. His parents and his uncle saw it and decided he was ripe to be turned. Snoke saw it and decided he was weak. Rey saw it and thought all he needed was her. And in a way, Rey was right. Like in the stories of wayward angels cast out from heaven by an angry god, the separation from grace is the true punishment. But Kylo wants something far different from true redemption. He is a Dark soul who wants to give in to his Light urges from time to time to make peace with his Force within. He cannot end the tension between Dark and Light, but he can dampen the volume a bit. And that’s where Rey comes in. Because if she will let him, he will make peace with her and let her be her Light Side self. For his own good and for the greater good of his Empire, they can be allies and not enemies. And maybe somehow, some way, they can balance the Force.

The two sides of the Force need to work in tandem, not in opposition. Kylo is determined to move the ideology of the Force past the tired old Jedi-Sith dichotomy. Because to Hell with all that. Let it all die. It’s been tried for millennia and it doesn’t work. 

Rey is halfway to realizing that. She understands the futility of her situation and she has decided to quit the fight. But while she has let go of her Jedi zeal, she hasn’t let go of her Jedi ideals. She still seems to think that the Light is the goal. But every time he tries to talk about the Force, she shuts him down. If she would just give him a chance, he could explain it all. But she’s too distrustful of him to listen. And that’s why tonight, he will try to persuade her with action not words. He wants her to experience balance for herself. 

Does she feel the same euphoria that he does? Does she recognize what this means? Can she tell that a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders just by experiencing her Light?

Time stands still for him. Kylo has no idea how long their minds are intertwined. He simply persists until he is sated. Finally, he pulls back. He is gentle with her now, unlike at the outset. No doubt tempered by the effect of her Light. 

How is Rey going to react to this? Is she going to slap him? Force push him? Maybe cry? Or run away? Are they about to have another heated argument?

“Are you okay?” Kylo asks with concern. 

“I think so,” she breathes out slowly. She has her hands raised to her temples now. She seems sort of disoriented. “That was . . . that was . . . “ Searching for the right words, she raises her eyes to his. 

They’re yellow. 

Kylo chokes. 

Fuck! What has he done??

Rey blinks and the sickly yellow is gone. Did he imagine it? Surely, he imagined it. 

“What?” Rey asks with alarm. 

“N-Nothing.”

“What??”

“Nothing. I thought I saw something, that’s all. I’ll take you home,” Kylo mumbles. Looking down, he rasps out, “Thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

It had felt so good. So easy. Like she could slide into it happily. And that’s nothing like what Rey expected.

No one warned her that Darkness could be this alluring. 

For something so morally momentous, it was troubling that it felt effortless. Because once Rey had given up grasping for her mental autonomy and just given in to the presence of Kylo in her mind, she realized what she was experiencing. This was Darkness. But at first, she didn’t recognize it. 

This wasn’t Kylo’s secret unspeakable fear that he will fail to live up to his grandfather’s legacy. This wasn’t the cycle of death and decay she saw depicted on Luke’s island that seemed more like a fact of life than any ethical judgement. Neither was it the snarky, self-important hate of Army Hux and his First Order groupies at the birthday party. It wasn’t even the deprivation, isolation, suffering, and random violence of Jakku. No, this was an entirely new kind of Darkness, and it was shockingly appealing. Even now, as she turns over what she remembers of the experience in her mind, Rey is still bewildered.

“I sense great fear in you,” a kindly voice said. Was it speaking to her? Rey doesn’t know. But it could be, for she is afraid. Fearful that she will forever be alone, fearful that she will never belong anywhere to anyone, fearful that her destiny is to be a bystander to other peoples’ happiness. Fearful that she will live a life that doesn’t matter, fearful that there will be no one to remember her when she’s gone, fearful that she will always be an anonymous throwaway who has no value. Except to him. And that is terrifying. For in Kylo’s mind she saw that same offer again and again: “Join me . . . please.” She knows now that it was not a ploy. And, truthfully, Rey was far more torn in Snoke’s throne room than she will even admit to herself. Did she make a mistake at Crait? She knows at that critical moment she let her fears hold her back. When she regained consciousness in the throne room, Rey ran away as quickly as she could . . . 

“You have anger, you have hate. But you don’t use them.” Still . . . Rey has been tempted many, many times to do so. Because she has so much to be angry about. Abandonment, deprivation, loneliness, mistreatment, loss. These are scars on her soul, wounds from a past she cannot change, burdens she takes with her into the future. She can put on a pretty dress and pretend to be a Senator, but she will never be more than a scavenger from a backwater world. It’s galling how much her past is so damned present. Let the past die, Kylo urges her. Those words strike a chord that resonates strongly. For he too knows what a nemesis the past can be. Rey wants very much to take his advice, but she worries in the end it will change nothing. But like so many other things Kylo Ren says, it seems to make a lot of sense. And that is troubling . . . 

“Give yourself to the Dark Side. In time, you will call me Master.” Kylo was right when he said she needs a teacher. And now, he is the only teacher left. She went first to the Light and was rejected for being drawn to Darkness. Luke Skywalker feared she might be as conflicted in her own way as Kylo Ren. And the ugly truth Rey refuses to admit to herself is that Skywalker was right. This moment is proof. All along, she has been drawn to the Dark Side for answers. First, it was the vision when she touched the saber. Then, it was the Dark cave on Luke’s island. Next, she was reaching out to Kylo in the Force and then in person. She has been flirting with Darkness all along. And now, Darkness is flirting back. She’s tempted to make the first move . . . 

“Give me everything.” Except Kylo said it was a quid pro quo and he would return everything to her in exchange. He’s like some Dark Side prince charming in a Cinderella story starring her. He’ll make her a Senator, he’ll make her respectable on the Upper Level, he’ll make her rich with credit cards loaded to the max. And . . . he’ll make her the Supreme Leader’s girlfriend. The pampered galpal to the galaxy’s most eligible bachelor. It’s all the comfort, luxury, and belonging Rey could ever ask for. Plus, he says he wants her Light Side opinions. It’s a holonet happy ending, right? So . . . what’s holding her back? Rey has no real reasons, except her gut tells her to beware of a bargain with the devil. She doesn’t trust this man and she never will. . . 

But, oh, the feel of the mind of Kylo Ren. Rey remembers it as a combination of extremes. Like a chill so cold it burns the skin. Like a whisper so loud you can hear it across a room. Like the soft caress that leaves behind a bruise. It is the furthest thing from the zen calm of Master Luke’s lessons. Kylo’s mind is a pulsating mix of competing passions. It’s all seven deadly sins rolled into one, focused and amplified ten-fold. He is every bit as dangerous as rumored. He might just as soon corrupt you as kill you. And what’s worse, he might make you like it. Because when he flashes that half-smirk, half-smile across a café table on the Upper Level, Rey tends to want to forget that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

His critics call him emotionally unstable. Capriciously violent. But his slaughter has a reason and his sins have a purpose. It’s all so rational on the surface. But the truth is Kylo’s justifications are all a pretext. This man wants what he wants and he gets it. That’s why all his charming attention of late has Rey every bit as suspicious as she is flattered. And now that he is in her mind and she’s in his, Kylo’s Darkness is simply overwhelming. 

Humiliating as it is, Rey’s first instinct was to submit. 

And that’s when the fantasies began. She remembers Kylo standing at her side, nodding with approval as she exacts deadly vengeance against Unkar Plutt and every other thug who ever wronged her on Jakku. As she strikes Plutt’s ugly head from his body with Kylo’s sword, it is so satisfying. Never again will Plutt starve anyone. This is justice, she tells herself. But that justice is thrillingly Dark. I love to watch you kill, Kylo leans in to confide. I love the righteous Light. 

Then she stands in the Senate, every bit the powerbroker newsmaker as Army Hux. People care what Rey has to say. They listen to her views. That’s shocking given she’s a self-educated mechanic from the Rim. But with the Supreme Leader pulling the strings in the background, Senator Rey has all the respect she needs. Because it’s not about her, it’s about power. And she has access to power in spades. She whispers in the ear of Kylo Ren and things happen. She rewards, she punishes, she plays favorites. All because she can. Now, she’s another version of Unkar Plutt. She revels in it, too. The scorned scavenger is thoroughly empowered.

Except behind closed doors, that is. Because at night she is Kylo Ren’s plaything. On her back, her legs spread wide. Or on her knees, her mouth doing the work. He dominates her body and she is eager to please. She lets him use her and she glories in it. She lets him abuse her and she tolerates it. For if there is a split lip or a black eye in the morning, that’s what bacta patches are for. He’s an angry guy and he can get carried away at times. She knows he doesn’t mean those names he calls her in bed. She believes him when he apologizes and says he loves her. No one will ever love her but this man. And so she will do anything, be anything, accept anything for his love. Everything she is and everything she has comes from him. You’re nothing, he reminds her again and again. But not to me. For him alone she has value. Theirs is a toxic, twisted codependency. A heady cocktail of politics, sex, the Force, and power. 

And Gods help her. Because if this is the real meaning of “Join me,” then Rey is ready to sign up. Because the Dark Side is the ultimate in wish fulfillment.

So committed was Rey to these fantasies that when Kylo had ended the mental connection she was startled. Wait---that wasn’t real? The revelation had been oddly disappointing. If in that moment, Kylo had reupped his offer, Rey would have leapt at the opportunity. She was all-in to be the Dark and submissive princess for the fallen Skywalker prince.

But the next day, clearheaded on a Sunday morning, all Rey can think is ‘what the Hell was that?’ Because Kylo had been begging for Light and all she saw was Darkness. His Darkness. Hardcore Darkness. She’s angry and a bit ashamed at how she had responded.

For his part, Kylo also seems a bit spooked. Because he presents himself around noontime the next day at her apartment. His opening line is “Are you okay?”

Rey doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“You’re sure?” He’s unconvinced as he peers at her.

“Yes.”

“That was intense last night.” He makes the understatement of the year. Then, Kylo makes a pseudo apology. “I surprised you. It made me worry afterwards that I hurt you. Did I hurt you?” 

Rey can feel her cheeks flame. Hurt isn’t exactly how she remembers it. “I’m fine.” 

“Did I scare you?”

Embarrassed and defensive, Rey lashes out with annoyance. “Everything about you is scary.” Then, she quickly changes the topic. “What’d you steal this time to get down here?”

“A bike,” he answers. “It’s nothing special. What are you up to today?” 

“I thought I might explore a little. Maybe go a little lower.” 

“The Underworld?” He raises an eyebrow.

Does he disapprove? Is he going to try to talk her out of it? No. Instead, Kylo invites himself along. He hops on his stolen bike and she throws a leg over it too. “Hold on,” Kylo tells her, so she snuggles up close behind before he takes off. And that’s how an hour later, they find themselves chilling in a rundown sports bar watching pod racing. Kylo drinks beer while she picks at fries. The place is mostly empty except for them and a few guys who the staff treat as regulars.

“This place smells like sweat and spice,” Rey observes, wrinkling her nose. 

“You left out the urine,” Kylo adds to the list. He shrugs. “It’s the Underworld. It’s supposed to be gross. At least it’s Sunday. If this were last night, we’d be stepping over stoned junkies and piles of vomit.”

“Ewww. Yuck.”

He chuckles at her vehement response. “That’s what counts for atmosphere down here in the land of vice. This was your idea,” he reminds her. 

“The Underworld makes Jakku look good,” she decides as she looks around at their grungy surroundings. “I never thought I’d say that.”

“Hey, watch the guy on the left,” Kylo directs Rey’s attention to one of many screens showing sporting events. “He crashes big time on the next lap. This is a rerun. I’ve seen it before.”

Sure enough, Kylo is right. The crash is spectacularly bad.

“Now, that’s what I call pod racing,” he smirks. “Everyone knows you watch it for the crashes.”

“Oh, that’s gotta hurt. Is he dead?” Rey asks, morbidly transfixed by the fireball that fills the screen. 

“Nah—he ejected out the back at the last second. If you blinked, you missed it. But they show it in the slow-motion replay. A hundred credits says that guy is Force sensitive. No regular human has reflexes like that.”

“Well, there’s your new Apprentice. Guess I’m off the hook.” Rey flashes Kylo a cheeky glare. It’s childish, but whatever. 

He takes the comment seriously. In a split second, Kylo morphs from laidback guy day drinking beer in a bar to the intense Dark warrior of the First Order. The Force is no joking matter for this or any other Skywalker. 

“Rey, I don’t want you Dark. You know that, right?” Kylo looks very concerned that she understands him. “I don’t want to change you. You’re fine as you are.”

“Yeah, okay,” she mutters, her thoughts reflexively reverting to last night. And who is he kidding? Little more than a week ago, he changed everything about her life. ‘Fine as you are’ seems a bit of a stretch.

“I want us to complement each other. I am Dark and you are Light.”

Rey lifts an eyebrow and cocks her head. “Don’t want a rival? Is that it?” She teasing but again he is all business. 

“I want balance.” He colors as he frowns. “Look, I overdid it last night. I kind of gorged myself on your Light. It got a little extreme. I won’t do that again. I promise.”

Rey shrugs it off, remembering only the wild fantasy of it all. “It was okay . . . I didn’t mind.” Actually, she had loved it, but she refuses to let on.

“Yeah, well, I think it’s best to avoid that.” He sits up in his chair now and informs her, “I’m leaving for the Rim later tonight. I came by to check on you and to give you this.” He slides a comlink across the table. “This is for you. If you need anything while I’m gone, give me a buzz.”

“Alright. Thanks.” 

“And think about my offer on the apartment. No strings attached.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

“There’s no hidden agenda,” he tells her defensively. He looks so earnest now that she smiles and nods. With his hair falling in his eyes and his genuine concern, he seems entirely without guile. It’s easy to forget who Kylo really is during times like these when he looks and acts like a nice guy. It occurs to Rey that he probably believes he’s a nice guy. And maybe—in some ways—Kylo is. Just not in the ways that matter.

Looking around at the grungy bar, Rey observes, “There’s a joke somewhere here. You know, something like ‘a Jedi and a Sith walk into bar—‘“

“I’m not Sith,” he interrupts. “And you’re not Jedi.”

“Close enough.”

“No. Not close at all.” Again, Kylo is intense with a hair trigger about the Force. “Rey, I want to move past all that.”

“To what? Balance?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m not sure yet. That’s why I can’t have an Apprentice yet. Not until I figure out some things. But I know I want to end the Light Side, Dark Side war over the Force. It pushes people to extremes. It solves nothing.” He frowns and takes another swig of his beer. 

A silence falls between them. Rey doesn’t really want to talk about the Force. She’s so over the Force.

“This place reminds me of Maz Kanata,” Rey speaks her thoughts aloud after a moment. It’s easy to imagine the diminutive barkeep shuffling around this rundown alien bar. 

“Maz Kanata,” Kylo repeats without enthusiasm. “That name reminds me of Han Solo.” Kylo grunts and looks around glumly. “Actually, this place reminds me of Han Solo. This is his kind of place.” When Rey doesn’t immediately raise the topic, Kylo does. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I killed him?” he goads her.

They sort of talked about this once over the Force bond, but Kylo didn’t precisely answer. As shocking as Han Solo’s death had been at the time, subsequently Rey lost many other Resistance friends she was closer to. It turned out that Han Solo was just the beginning of the people she would lose. And that makes his death a lot less shocking in retrospect.

She looks away. These are memories she tries to repress. “It doesn’t matter,” Rey sighs. 

“You liked him.” Kylo’s words come out like an accusation. 

Rey pleads guilty. “Yes, I did.” She liked Han Solo instantly. She liked Leia Organa, too. The only one in the family she didn’t like was Luke Skywalker. And, disconcerting as it is, Rey likes Kylo also. She just hates what he has done.

“Women always liked Han Solo. He was a charmer. I hated that about him. He was such a con. Aren’t you going to ask me why I killed him?” Kylo repeats, looking stubborn.

“So you can give me your tragic backstory to explain why it was justified in your mind? No.” Rey is indignant. “You don’t get that chance. Han cared about you. He tried to help you and you killed him. So, don’t try play the victim. He’s the one who’s dead.”

“He wasn’t there because he cared about me. Han Solo was my mother’s errand boy on the Starkiller. He was doing that for her, not for me,” Kylo gripes. “I killed him so they would stop trying to redeem me. They each took a turn. Luke. My mother. Han Solo. They couldn’t accept the answer that this is who I am. I don’t want to change.”

“Yeah, well everyone sees that now,” Rey grumbles. “I should have seen it all along. I saw you cut down your own father in cold blood. And then I foolishly attempted the same thing. Luke tried to warn me,” Rey recalls bitterly. “I didn’t listen.” Instead, she ran off in a righteous huff, convinced she could accomplish what his family failed to do. It was the height of hubris in retrospect. 

“So . . . do you ever regret killing your father?” Rey asks hopefully. 

Kylo works his jaw a moment before he answers. “I regret that I had to do it.”

“Oh, come on!” she scoffs loudly. “You weren’t forced to kill him!”

“Keep your voice down!” Kylo hisses. Then, he reminds her with a level look, “Han Solo was the enemy come to blow up the Starkiller. Was I just supposed to let him go?”

“Why did you let your mother go?” Rey asks. She’s wondered that a lot. 

Now, it’s Kylo’s turn to look uncomfortable. “She was dying anyway.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Again, Kylo looks away as he speaks. “My mother really tried. She tried with me. But I wasn’t the son she wanted and she wasn't the mother I needed. I don’t fault her. I kind of admired her professionally in the end, even if she was a lousy mom. From my position, I see now how ambitious setting up the New Republic must have been. No wonder she never had any time for me.”

Kylo continues. This is clearly a topic he’s thought about a lot. “I don’t think my mother realized the effect of her lies. She herself was raised on lies and she was fine with it when the truth came out. I think she thought I would be the same.” Kylo sighs and frowns. He has soulful, careworn eyes that belong on an older face, Rey thinks. He’s done a lot in his short years and it has left a mark. Kylo shakes his head with regret as he summarizes: “I fault my uncle and my father most of all. Not my mother.”

“Well, now they’re all dead.” Rey is blunt.

“Yes.”

“Did it work? Did killing your past make the hurt go away?” It’s a real question. Because Rey herself has so much pent up emotion about her own dead parents that she cannot express.

“Honestly? It sort of made it worse. But at least I don’t have to deal with them in-person any longer. With our family, you can’t just have an argument, you have a war.” 

Kylo starts asking the questions now. “Are you better about your family now that you know the truth?”

“I think I might be more angry,” Rey answers honestly. “I’m angry with them for what they did and I’m angry with myself for being so delusional.”

He nods thoughtfully. “There’s a big streak of anger in you.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No. I don’t. I will never fault you for your Darkness. There is Darkness in everyone to some degree. In the right circumstances for the right person, it can overtake them.”

“Luke saw it right away. He said it frightened him,” Rey reveals a little shamefully. At the time, she had been confused and offended. But so much of her interaction with Luke went badly. Rey still cringes when she recalls lighting a sword on him before she left. What had she been thinking?? You don’t take on a Jedi Master in a lightsaber battle.

“That’s just Luke,” Kylo reassures her. “That guy was terrified of Darkness. He repressed it in himself and that made it worse. His paranoia was extreme back when I knew him. That’s why he tried to kill me in my sleep.”

“What really happened that night?” Rey asks softly. She’s never heard the full story.

“Do you really want to know?” Kylo challenges.

“Yes. I do. Tell me, please. I want to know your version.” It only seems fair.

Kylo nods and begins the tale. “I woke up to my uncle with his sword over my head. I grabbed mine and it was a battle.” Rey nods. She knows this part. Kylo’s expression now turns bleak as he remembers, “There were thirteen Padawans living at the Temple back then, and most everyone else joined in. They took sides. I guess Luke thought it was Dark versus Light. But I thought he was in the wrong and so did some of the others. They fought for me.”

“So you and your friends won?”

“Yes. I pulled a Force shockwave out of nowhere.” Kylo looks a little haunted now as he recounts. “I was desperate to live. I don’t even know how I did it. It was instinct. But it demolished the temple and killed most of the others, including Luke, I thought.” 

“What happened then?”

“I panicked. I fled with a few survivors.”

“So you went to Snoke?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “It seemed like the best choice. I figured that since I killed my uncle and the others, I could never go home again. No one would believe me that it was self-defense. Rey, I killed Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, a New Republic hero. That was not something that would get me a slap on the wrist.”

“What happened to the others who left with you?” She’s curious. 

“They’re all dead now. Snoke killed one who stood up to him. I killed the rest along the way in a series of tests. I had to prove my Darkness repeatedly to Snoke. Rey, you weren’t the first execution he presented me with. That’s how I knew I could catch him off guard. He and I had played that scene before. He was expecting me to kill you since I had done it before.”

Rey’s eyes narrow. “You’re a deadly guy. You kill your family and you kill your friends. I’ll remember that.”

He looks taken aback at her biting tone, and Rey instantly regrets how cold it comes off. Kylo is being honest with her. He’s been honest with her all along, actually. That’s a bit of a realization for Rey. She had been assuming this man to be a manipulative schemer. But he’s not. And that makes sense. Because Kylo was raised on lies. He probably hates lies. 

Has she been wrong to expect the worst of Kylo? Rey is not trusting by nature. And she’s seen this guy commit terrible acts. But never against her. He’s so confusing. Rey doesn’t know what to think. 

As if reading her thoughts, Kylo promises, “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“That’s what they all thought, I’ll bet.”

He’s annoyed at her judgement. “Look, I don’t know what Luke and my mother told you, but this was all a lot less premeditated than most people believe. I sort of ended up as the Apprentice. It wasn’t like one big conscious choice to join the Dark Side. But once you’re there, you’re stuck. There’s no going back until you kill your Master. On the Dark Side, you must obey your Master or be the Master. That’s how it works.”

His eyes snap at her now as he vents, “I didn’t want to be a Jedi. My mother insisted on it. She thought that discipline would be good for me. Plus, my uncle worried that I had too much potential to not train.” He frowns at her with clear consternation. “Rey, no one sets out to destroy planets and conquer the galaxy at twenty-three. But once Skywalker set things in motion and Snoke intervened, we were on a path for war. Snoke called it destiny and maybe he was right. But I think it was also a lot of independent decisions along the way that combined with conflicting agendas and extreme ideologies. I was Luke’s scapegoat and Snoke’s pawn and I knew it,” he gripes bitterly. “That’s why they both had to go.”

“What did you want to be?” she asks. “If you didn’t train with Luke, what would you have become?”

“I don’t know . . . anything. I wanted to go to college and choose my own life like a normal person. Not fight the battles my parents fought. The Rebellion and the New Republic were their dreams, not mine. But I was the Skywalker heir and the Crown Prince of defunct Alderaan. So they thought public service was my duty.” He sneers now: “They pushed and they pushed and look what happened. I ruined it all.”

“Yes, you did,” she nods. 

And, actually Kylo doesn’t look too happy about it. A certain sadness clings to this man, she realizes. How has she never seen this before? Beneath all the ambition and anger there is so much sadness. He rules the galaxy unopposed. He rules the Force. He has eclipsed his revered Sith grandfather. And yet, Kylo Ren still seems so lost. How else to explain him wandering Coruscant with her incognito every chance he gets? Stealing speeders to joyride like some young street punk version of Han Solo. So desperate for a friend and a political foe that he kidnaps her from across the galaxy. If Rey didn’t know better, she’d think Kylo was rebelling. Except he’s acting out against the future he deliberately created. This is all his fault. But none of this power truly fulfills Kylo, she realizes suddenly. And actually, that makes Rey like him more. 

And now again, like on Ahch-To, Rey can only view Kylo Ren with compassion. 

“What did you want to be?” he turns the question back on her. “Before the Force and the war?”

“I wanted to find my family. I never thought much farther than that. I never dreamed I would leave Jakku and be on my own.”

“Is that why you stalled out on Dantooine?”

She bristles at this description. “I had a normal life and a steady job. That was more security than I ever had before. And then you swooped in and ended all that.”

“Do you really want to go back?” It’s a serious question. 

She hesitates. 

And that’s when his comlink goes off. He answers it with an annoyed “What is it?” She watches as Kylo listens a moment and frowns. “Hold them quietly for now,” he orders. “I want to interrogate them myself.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Rey observes. 

“It’s nothing,” he dismisses. “Just some disgruntled types.” He abruptly stands and tells her, “I’m headed back to the Palace. You take the bike. I’ll go steal something else.”

“That’s gallant of you,” she allows. 

He snickers his reply. “I was born a prince, remember? Depending on long this takes, I may drop by later. But if not, I’ll see you in about a week.” He motions to the comlink he gave her that is still laying on the table. “Use that if you need to. Or if you just want to say hello. Don’t be a stranger, Rey,” he chides. Then he flashes that half-smirk, half-smile that makes her heart melt. 

This is Kylo Ren, Rey reminds herself sternly as she automatically smiles back. She can’t let herself lose sight of that fact. But that’s a real risk. Because while he appears in public cloaked and masked, he appears to her in the guise of an everyman. Which is the real Kylo Ren? Both, she decides. That is the point of him. Both Light and Dark, both ordinary and extraordinary, either infamous or heroic depending on your point of view. 

Watching him walk away, Rey decides that she really likes this version of him. The casual, reflective Kylo Ren who walks among his people unnoticed. This is the guy who hauls a heavy load of water under his arm to leave on her table. The guy who doesn’t leave until he’s sure she makes it safely into her building. He gives her comlinks and credit cards because he frets over her. It’s the furthest thing from the patricidal monster she fought on the Starkiller . . . and yet, it isn’t. This man is an enigma, full of contrasts. And that’s the whole point: he’s conflicted. He’s not one thing, he’s everything.

Rey was taken in once before through the Force bond. She ought to have learned her lesson. But watching him leave, Rey worries she is in danger of losing her head again. That’s the effect this man has on her. Something about this man is very insidious. He grows on her even though he shouldn’t.

Deciding she’s seen enough of the Underworld, Rey heads up to wander the Upper Levels for the afternoon. She finds a park and just hangs out for a bit. Green space is rare on this very populated city world. Most of it is here up top where the plants get maximum sunlight and rain. There are even full-size trees. Rey finds one to sit beneath and enjoys the rustling leaves. Her Jakku self finds all the buildings and crowds on Coruscant to be a bit overwhelming. She’s used to wide open desert plains and small villages. Looking about, all Rey can think is that she’s a long, long way from Jakku. That’s a good thing, she knows. But it takes some getting used to. 

Later that afternoon, Rey wanders back to her apartment. She does a quick look around and spies a tall shadow of a man through the open doorway to her cramped bedroom.

“Kylo? Is that you?” she calls as she kicks off her shoes.

The shadow steps into the doorway and comes into full view. 

It’s not Kylo Ren. It’s Armitage Hux.

The Chancellor raises an eyebrow. “Were you expecting someone else?”


	9. Chapter 9

“Kylo? Is that you?”  Rey calls out.

 

No, it’s not.  It’s Armitage Hux.  He walks into the open doorway and drawls, “Were you expecting someone else?”

 

“Oh!” Rey nearly leaps out of her skin.  How did he get in here?  And why does everyone feel free to break into her apartment?  She recovers fast and nods coolly, doing her best Jakku scavenger stare down.  Rey uses her most quelling ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone as she greets him.  “Chancellor.” 

 

“Come, now,” Hux cajoles.  He’s clearly enjoying her dismay.  This is a man who relishes making others uncomfortable. “Surely, we know each other better than that.”

 

“Army,” she plays along coolly.

 

“That’s better.”

 

Her eyes find the blaster Kylo gave her in Hux’s hands.  Is that an unspoken threat?  “How did you get in here?” she demands.

 

“I bribed the Palace chauffeur who took you home last night.  I must say, I did not expect to find you down here.  This is a slum.  When I heard your coordinates, I was certain that guy cheated me. I had to investigate for myself. But lo and behold,” he tosses her blaster down on the table between them, “this is the last bastion of the Resistance after all.  Is that the extent of your arsenal?”  He shakes his head in mock reproof.  “Gunrunning is not your thing, Senator.  Stick to speeches.” 

 

Rey frowns at the blaster.  It had been hidden in a drawer.  Hux has clearly been snooping.  Not that there is much to find.

 

He gestures to her bottled water stacked against the wall.  “Apparently, this is a supply depot as well.  Are you anticipating a siege?  I could bivouac the 101st Legion here.” 

 

Defensive Rey bristles, “I like to be prepared.”

 

“A girl scout, eh?  That fits.  A thirsty girl scout.”  He’s laughing at her.  Then again, from what she has seen, Hux laughs at everyone.  He has the strangest personality—his quick sarcastic wit would be thoroughly entertaining if it weren’t for his pervasive mean-spiritedness.

 

“How did you get in here?” Rey demands.

 

“I have my ways.  Now, don’t get upset,” he chides.  “I’m not stalking you.  I just came to check on you and to satisfy my curiosity.  And yes, it really is as bad as everyone says beneath the Upper Levels.  I had to break in to wait inside or risk being mugged on the street.  I’ve seen Hellholes in the Rim that were more appealing than this neighborhood,” Hux sniffs.  He eyes her dingy, timeworn apartment.  “Such an interesting choice of residence.  Why ever are you skulking down here with the proletariat?”

 

“Well, thanks for dropping by,” Rey makes a not-so-subtle hint to her uninvited guest.

 

Hux ignores it.  He shifts his stance and drops his usual nasty persona.  His next words are such a marked contrast to his usual vitriol that they fairly ring with sincerity.   “I’m glad you came last night.” 

 

Oh.  

 

Well, Rey isn’t.  But he’s being nice, so she makes a neutral comment.  “That was quite a party.” 

 

He clearly relishes the praise.  Army crows, “It was epic.  I’m still not fully sober.”  Then, he cocks his head at her and demands, “What chased you away so early?  You ran out of there like a Muun during a bank run.” 

 

Rey shrugs.  “I don’t fit in with your friends.   Surely that’s not a surprise.” 

 

“You need to assimilate.  We won.  Get over it.” 

 

Rey has.  But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to hang out with the First Order for fun.  “That’s not my crowd.”

 

Hux raises both eyebrows.  “Too many Starkiller jokes?”  

 

“Did you actually eat that cake?” Rey frowns.

 

“No. We exploded it.”

 

She blinks.

 

“Well, technically, we should have collapsed it.”

 

She blinks again.

 

“Oh, come on!” he gibes.  “I know you can smile.  Rey, you have a very pretty smile when you aren’t giving me all that stern moral condescension.  It’s tiresome, you know.  Very tiresome.  Although,” he purses his lips, “you make an excellent straight man.  Perhaps Ren is onto something with this foe idea.”

 

Rey shoots him a look.  “Enough with the Starkiller jokes.”

 

He looks coy.  “Too soon?”

 

“It’s not a laughing matter.  Didn’t a lot of your own people die on Starkiller Base?”

 

“Yes, so we’re even.”

 

“You are heartless.”

 

He doesn’t dispute it.  “Our Starkiller dead were martyrs for the glorious cause.  Heroes of the First Order.  I gave an excellent eulogy for them—did you catch it?   It was one of my best speeches.  There were clips of it all over the holonet for weeks,” he preens. 

 

“It’s always about you, isn't it?”  Rey narrows her eyes and considers her visitor.  “You know I never pictured you as being this animated in real life.  From your speeches, you seemed—"

 

“Eloquent?” he finishes for her.

 

Rey shakes her head.  “Verbose.”

 

“Thrilling?”

 

“Stiff.”

 

“Brilliant?”

 

“Arrogant.”

 

“Devastatingly handsome?”

 

“Yeah,” she reluctantly concedes this one, “you’re good looking. I’ll grant you that.” 

 

Hux chuckles.  “Admit it. You like me,” he goads with a smile.  “You hate that you like me.”

 

It’s true, but Rey shrugs.  “I like you as much as I like any genocidal militant.”

 

He’s philosophical about that comment.  “One man’s genocide is another man’s liberation.  But grant that I am a man of honor with principles, not some mad dog petty dictator like Ren.”  Hux is serious again now.  “Rey, you really should be careful of Ren.  He’s a psychopath.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“I always wondered why Snoke kept that rabid cur in such a place of power.  But I suppose Ren was a useful tool when properly manipulated.  Certainly, he was useful for hunting Skywalker.”  Rey is well aware that Kylo and his Chancellor don’t like each other, but Army truly looks troubled as he warns, “Ren’s violence has only gotten worse since the war ended.  Lately, he’s always melting down over something or another.  His overkill is gratuitous.  Last week he slowly dismembered some Admiral who pissed him off.”  When Rey recoils at this, Hux warns gravely, “Watch yourself.” 

 

She nods.  “I will.”

 

“Good,” Hux looks relieved.  “I’m still figuring you out,” he reveals now.  Looking around to give her entire apartment some serious side eye, Hux informs her, “This humble abode puts a new wrinkle in the mix.  You have deepened your mystery, Rey.”  When she does not react, he continues:  “I know you were there when Ren killed Snoke.  I just don’t know how it played out.”

 

Rey’s no fool.  She’s not about to tell him.

 

Army walks through the scenario aloud.  “You surrendered to Ren to get to Snoke.  Just like Skywalker surrendered to Vader to get to the Emperor.  Then Vader killed the Emperor to save Skywalker.  Tell me,” Army Hux’s icy blue eyes drill into her.  “Did Ren kill Snoke to save you?”

 

Rey herself doesn’t know the answer to that question.  She had thought she knew Kylo’s motivations, but now she’s not so sure.  She punts on the question.  “You’ll have to ask Ren.  No one knows why he does half of the things he does.”

 

“Ren let you get away,” Hux decides.  “Oh, he blamed Snoke’s death on you and pretended to be hurt, but I saw through him immediately.  Ren had the most to gain by killing Snoke.  If you had killed Snoke, you would have killed Ren too.  But you didn’t.  You let Ren live on the Starkiller.  He let you live on the _Supremacy_.  Quid pro quo?”  Hux looks to her for confirmation.  “Have I got that right?”

 

Not exactly.  But close enough.  “You know a lot.”

 

“Yes, but I don't know why any of this happened.  And that’s the most important part.  Why, Rey?  Tell me.”

 

Again, Army Hux’s keenly intelligent eyes bore into hers.  She looks away.  “Ask Ren.”

 

“I’m asking you.  Why does a known fugitive get to flee the _Supremacy_ in Snoke’s personal escape craft moments before our fleet is devastated by your rebel friends?  Why when you’re caught again with the Resistance do you get a pardon when the others get executed?  Why do you get a lifetime appointment to the Senate with carte blanche to spout Resistance rhetoric?  There has to be a reason,” he purrs.  “Care to enlighten me?”

 

Not really.  And, truthfully, Rey doesn’t understand it all herself.  “Ask Ren,” she punts again.

 

Hux walks a few paces forward to stare her down.  “Are you Ren’s sister?”

 

Rey blinks at this unexpected question.  “What?”

 

“Don’t be coy.   That’s long been the leading theory.  You’re his sister.   That’s why you were Resistance.  That’s why Han Solo came to rescue you on Starkiller Base.  That’s why you were loyal to Leia Organa until the end.  It’s why you saw the map to the Jedi and had the droid.  And why you have the Force.  You’re a Skywalker, aren’t you?” he accuses like it’s the worst thing possible. 

 

When Rey doesn’t immediately answer, Hux steps forward even closer.  “Yes,” he hisses.  “I know who Ren is.  Plenty of people do.   So . . . are you his sister?”

 

“No.”

 

“His cousin maybe?”

 

“No.”

 

Hux still looks unconvinced.  “Would you even know if you were?   That family has a habit of misplaced relatives on the opposite sides of a war.”

 

“I’m not his sister.  I’m not Luke’s daughter.  I’m nobody,” Rey chokes out the truth.  “My parents were junk traders on Jakku.”  There.  She said it out loud.  In the two years since the revelations of her past occurred, Rey has struggled to accept the humble truth.  But now, she’s ready to make it her own.   Ready to confess it even to this man who she knows will shame her for it.  “My parents were itinerant scavengers.  L-Like m-me.”  They must have lived on the edge of society one step ahead disaster until it finally caught up with them.  Rey is all that survives of her family.

 

Hux curls his lip in disdain.  Like she knew he would.  “How wretched.” 

 

“Yes,” she immediately agrees.  “They were wretched.”  That’s the kindest thing she can say about her faithless family.  Rey looks away.  “They’re dead now.”  Part of her is glad.

 

“Let me guess—they were victims of the Empire or of the First Order and that explains your zeal—"

 

“No,” Rey cuts him off sharply.  “They were drunkards who died in the desert after they sold me off for drinking money.”

 

“Ouch,” Hux’s reaction is real.  “That’s way worse than being a Skywalker.” He reconsiders though after a moment, “Well, maybe not.”  Seeing her obvious distress, Hux drops his interrogation act now and tells her softly, “Rey, I’m sorry.  My family was awful, too.  Well, my father was awful.  My poor mother was a saint.  From what I remember of her, that is . . .”  He looks as uncomfortable now as she feels.

 

“So . . . you really are from Jakku,” Army abandons his theory of her being some long-lost Skywalker.  He sounds disappointed about it.  She can’t fault him for that.  She too had been disappointed to discover she has no romantic fairytale origin story.  She’s just some random girl with the Force.

 

Rey takes a deep breath and says it again.  Louder and firmer this time.  “I’m nobody.”  She’s fine with it.  Really, she is.  The bigger let down was that her parents had betrayed her into her circumstances, not that her parents were unremarkable.

 

Hux looks concerned.  “You don’t believe that, do you?”  His handsome face is so expressive when he loses his mask-like perpetual sneer.   It’s like he’s a different person entirely.  “Tell me you don’t really believe that.”

 

Rey nods her head.  “I’m just a scavenger.  After the war, I was a mechanic in a droid factory,” she reveals. 

 

“And now you’re a Senator of the Empire,” Hux finishes with a somewhat forced brightness.

 

It grates.  “Do you know why a nineteen-year-old runs away to war?” she asks bitterly.  “Because she has nothing to lose.”  Rey had everything to gain with the Resistance.  They fed her regular meals and housed her with running water.  They offered her belonging and friendship.  Even some degree of prestige once she was entrusted to bring the lightsaber to the missing Jedi Master.  And, yes, she agreed with their principles.  But that wasn’t the real motivating factor.  Young girls from intact, stable, and happy families don’t run away to war.  They have people to talk them out of it and futures to jeopardize.  But not Rey of Jakku.  The only she has going for her is the Force.

 

Army Hux knows it, too.  “You have the magic Force and that makes you somebody.  You’re a wildcard, Rey,” he says with true respect.  Then he flashes a smile that is disarmingly endearing.  “You are a most unusual Senator.”

 

Yes, and that’s the problem.  Rey’s mind reverts back to the question Kylo had asked her earlier:  does she want to go back to Dantooine?  That’s really another way of asking does she want to be a Senator?   One week into the job, Rey still isn’t sure.  There are pros and cons.  It’s a mixed bag.   The pay is far better than the droid factory and the job definitely improves her standing in life’s pecking order.  But Coruscant is very expensive and Rey is still getting used to it. 

 

More importantly, the job seems to require Rey to be a figure of fun, like some token gadfly to the First Order’s tyranny.  That’s not a position she would choose outright.  It seems stupid to continue in that role unless she can actually make a positive difference.   Kylo says he wants her to have an impact, but it’s hard to see how that’s possible as one Senator out of a thousand.   Rey fears that she is too far out of step from the other First Order aligned politicians.  They are beholden to the regime and to their voters, unlike Rey who answers only to her conscience and to Kylo.

 

Is she a sell out if she stays in the Senate and acquiesces to Kylo?   Or is she honoring the memory and the cause of the Resistance?   Rey isn’t sure. But if she is going to do this Senate thing, she wants to do it well.  With dignity and grace and true impact.  And if that’s not possible, then she wants to go back to anonymity on Dantooine.

 

There were dissenting Senators in the old Imperial Senate.  Leaders like Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, and Leia Organa.  For years before the Alliance was formed, they tried to work within the system to reform it.  That’s the role Rey would have to play to be successful.  And those are very big shoes to fill.  Rey worries she is not up to the task.  It’s not that Rey feels she isn’t capable, it’s just that giving speeches, attending meetings, and schmoozing are skills way out of her comfort zone.  She needs a mentor. 

 

The logical choice is also the most bizarre one, but he happens to be standing right in front of her just now:  Chancellor Armitage Hux.

 

So, Rey sucks up her pride and asks for help.  “Army, I need more than help writing my introductory speech.  I need someone to teach me how to be a Senator.  What to do, what to say, where to go, how to look, how to act.  Ren put me in this role and I feel like I’m being set up to fail.”

 

“Shall I assign an aide to you as a consultant?” he offers.

 

“Do you think that would be enough help?  I need a lot of help,” she admits.  “Would you do it yourself?” she boldly blurts out.

 

“You’re saying you want to be my protege?”  Army looks as shocked that she’s asking as Rey is.  He feels the need to confirm. “That is what you are suggesting, is it not?”

 

“Well, yes,” Rey blushes, feeling a bit sheepish.  “I guess so . . . If you want to, that is . . .”

 

He looks pleased now. She has stroked his ego.  But then, self-important Hux informs her, “That is a much coveted role, you know.  Many would love to have my tutelage.  I can make or break someone’s career.”

 

It’s true.  He’s not bragging.  Armitage Hux is a very powerful and influential figure.

 

“Normally, if I were to provide career guidance, it would be for someone with impeccable academic and professional credentials.  Someone whose rise could be useful to me in the long run.   You are none of those things,” he observes bluntly.

 

“That’s why I need your help,” she counters.

 

He cocks his head at Rey now and challenges, “Why should I help you?”

 

“You did it once before.”

 

“That was a one-off.”

 

“Do it to suck up to Leader Ren.”

 

“I’m no sycophant.”   Army takes offense.

 

“Then do it to punk Ren.  Help me oppose him more effectively.”

 

“That opposes me, too,” he points out.

 

“You were using my appointment to discredit Ren to your friends at your party,” she reminds him.  When he doesn’t deny it, Rey shoots him a look.  “It wasn’t very subtle.”

 

He is unrepentant.  “I am not a subtle man. These are not subtle times.”

 

Yes, she knows.  “We all are learned that from the Starkiller.”

 

“Are we back to that again?” Hux complains.  “Give me a real reason why I should help you and maybe I’ll do it.”

 

Rey considers a long moment before she speaks up.  “Do it because you like me and because I like you.”

 

“I hate that I like you,” he grumbles.

 

“I hate that I like you, too,” she agrees.

 

Hux deliberates.  “You are woefully unqualified to be a Senator, but you have promise.  If you were more effective, I could call publicly for your dismissal.  Make Ren look even more foolish for appointing you in the first place.”  

 

“So, you’ll do it?” Rey asks hopefully.

 

“I would teach you the way I myself was taught,” Hux thinks aloud, “and that is very sink or swim.  I have high standards.”

 

“So, that’s a yes?”

 

“I shall consider it further,” Hux defers judgement.  “Well, carry on,” he orders as though he were her commanding officer.  Then, he makes to leave.

 

“Army,” she says sternly as he approaches the door.  “Don’t break in here again.”

 

He raises an eyebrow.  “Because I might run into Ren?”

 

“Yes.”  She instinctively knows nothing good will come of that.

 

The next morning, that friendly woman from Army’s staff can’t wait to intercept Rey as she arrives at the office.  “Oh, good.  There you are.  Have you seen these?”  She pushes a datapad towards Rey.   “They went up yesterday.  Four million hits already.  And counting.  Army was very pleased.”

 

Rey starts swiping through a collection of images from the birthday party.  It’s a who’s who of the First Order looking glamorous, relaxed, and happy.  This is the in-crowd of the fascist elite.

 

“Army and our press secretary went over the snaps to pick the very best.   They did some editing.  Look—they got your good side.”

 

“Oh.  Okay.” Sure enough, Rey is in one of the photographs released to the press.  Wow.  Does she really look like that?  Rey is pictured standing with that young major fellow who she had met at the beginning of the party.  Rey reads the caption ‘ultra left wing’ next to her name and cringes inwardly.   Exactly when did she become the crazy extremist?

 

“It’s a nice follow-up on your media debut last week.  Plus, it makes Army look so tolerant, don’t you think?   Reaching across the aisle to the lone dissident.  So magnanimous,” the aide approves.

 

“Right,” Rey grumbles. 

 

As if on cue, Chancellor Hux now appears.  This man has a habit of turning up unannounced, Rey thinks.  He marches blithely into her office with a larger than usual entourage trailing in his wake.

 

“Chancellor,” she greets him formally.  Around the Senate offices, there is a lot of pomp and circumstance, she’s noticed.  Trying to fit in, Rey mimics it herself.

 

“Senator,” Army begins, “I bring you distinguished guests.”  He waves a careless hand behind him at his throng.  “These scholars from Coruscant University are the foremost experts in poverty and economic development.  There were my nine o’clock, but now they are your nine o’clock instead.”  Hux is his usual presumptuous self as he unloads his inconvenient visitors on Rey.   “They are here to brief the Senate on strategies to help the deplorables become more self-sufficient and less of a drain on public resources.  I told them you were fan of this sort of thing, so their time would be better spent with you.  I know you are a receptive ear for this sort of whining, Senator.”

 

Feeling very maneuvered and a bit bewildered, Rey nods slowly.  Is this what Army meant by sink or swim?

 

The Chancellor now shakes his head with true regret. “It’s a pity the war is over, or we could just put the young ones in the stormtrooper program and be done with it.  These days, the orphanages are full to the brim.”

 

“Chancellor, the poor will always be with us,” a woman in the group intones gravely.

 

“Yes.  And, unfortunately, the stupid are as endemic as the poor.  Plus, they procreate just as readily.”  Hux turns back to Rey.  “Senator, you will be my personal representative in this matter.  This is your area of expertise, after all. And you are our at-large representative for the Rim where this sort of thing runs rampant.”  Hux turns to the group of academics, many of whom look none too pleased to lose their coveted audience with the Chancellor only to be fobbed off on Rey.  “Tell the Senator here everything you wish me to know.  She will be briefing me later.”

 

“Forgive me, but isn’t this Senator very new?” the woman who spoke up before eyes Rey without enthusiasm.

 

Hux flashes his most charming smile.  “The Senator has a deep and longstanding knowledge of the underprivileged.  Her words may occasionally be intemperate, but her heart is in the right place so we indulge her lapses.  We can all respect that she is passionate in her views.”  Army shoots her a covert wink as he proclaims, “I have complete confidence in her judgement.   As does our Leader.”

 

“Yes, of course,” the woman replies stiffly, looking resigned to be brushed off.

 

“I will have one of my staffers sit in as well,” Army adds to Rey’s great relief. 

 

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Rey says with as much professionalism as she can muster. 

 

As Army sweeps regally from the room, Rey summons one of her new and very idle legislative assistants to sit in.  She figures she should have an entourage of her own since everyone else seems to.   Determined to convene her very first policy meeting and to make Leia Organa proud, Rey invites her unexpected guests to sit.  It’s time to start this Senator gig for real, she decides. 

 

And so, with a deep breath and a friendly smile, Rey perches on the edge of her giant desk and begins, “Tell me your ideas.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Keep your eye on the generals.  Snoke gave him those words of advice early on. The politicos can make trouble with words and the business types can make trouble with credits, but the generals make trouble with bombs.  And that’s the worst sort of trouble.  No accountant ever pulled off a coup, Snoke warned. 

 

And that’s why Kylo is in the Rim this week.  He’s keeping an eye on his generals. 

 

With the war over, his challenge has been to keep his military busy and keep its commanders vying with one another for promotions.  It will not do to have his ships idle and his ambitious generals with too much time on their hands.  That will only foster a conspiracy. 

 

His solution has been to task the First Order fleet with police duties ostensibly in the name of law and order.  Star destroyers now patrol hyperspace lanes for pirates and smugglers, filling the gap that local system authorities lack the resources and the jurisdiction to address.  He has also created a most wanted list for organized crime henchmen and turned his forces loose to bring them in dead or alive. Local systems have long been outgunned by the deeply entrenched, wealthy crime syndicates like the Hutts and the Pikes.  But not the First Order fleet.  They are more than a match for the drug cartels and smuggling rings that plague the galaxy. And whereas local officials might turn a blind eye to criminal elements in their midst in exchange for bribes and protection, the First Order commanders will not.  Knowing the ruthless competition among the ranks, Kylo made a game of it.  He assigned prize money to each name on the proscription list.  The unit that brings a target to justice gets to split the reward.  But more importantly, they get bragging rights to others.  

 

So far, this ploy has been working well.  It’s helping to clean up the Rim worlds and make space travel safer overall.  It’s making his military goons the good guys for once.  All in all, it’s a win-win for him, his citizens, and his military.  But Kylo knows this strategy won’t work for much longer.  So, he’s been careful to make plenty of unsolicited and unannounced visits to keep up the oversight on his military. 

 

Kylo might not be the most self-aware person, but he knows he lacks the goodwill and respect that Snoke had.  His Master spent years stroking egos and funding pet projects to buy political and military influence all over the galaxy.  Those allies had personal and political allegiance to Snoke.  Very little of that appears to have transferred to his successor Kylo Ren.  Kylo knows that he is judged too impulsive and erratic by some.  His motives are suspect and the circumstances of Snoke’s death are sketchy.  Plus, the years Kylo spent as Snoke’s extra-military enforcer questing for Luke Skywalker have him far too distinct from the armies he now purports to lead.  It makes things ripe for an insurrection if the right leader was to emerge.

 

Armitage Hux is the obvious man to try.  Hux is a true believer in the First Order but Kylo doesn’t trust him farther than he could Force-push him on a bad day.   Plus, with his blowhard rhetoric and visibility to civilians and troops alike, Hux is far more popular than he himself is.  That’s why Kylo immediately appointed Hux to be Senate Chancellor.  Now, Army Hux is safely ensconced in a do-nothing role as a permanent figurehead.  But he’s on the nightly holonet newsfeeds almost daily and he can speechify to his heart’s content.  That strokes his gargantuan ego and keeps Hux happy even though he lacks any real power.   It was an inspired solution that could turn out to be an answer for other potential would-be rivals.  Kylo has begun toying with the idea of additional civilian appointments for other senior military commanders. 

 

But that can wait until the dirty work in the Rim is through.  Kylo’s crackdown on inter-system crime is long overdue and it’s become one of his more popular initiatives that even his detractors can get behind.  More than anything, Kylo wants to be a leader who gets things done.   He’s no ideologue.  He’s more pragmatist than anything. 

 

He plans to bring efficient order where democracy let chaos long bloom.  He will clean up the incessant crime and persistent poverty in the Rim.  He will weed out the rampant corruption and public complacency of the Core.  He will bind the galaxy together with new trade routes, more hyperspace lanes, and system-spanning economic development projects.  No longer will local sectors create fiefdoms and monopolies to corner markets and raise prices.  Slavery, in all its various legal guises, will finally be abolished on all worlds.  In time, the Rim outposts will enjoy the same gleaming, cosmopolitan prosperity as the Core worlds.   Opportunity will no longer depend on who you are, where you are from, and what species you are born.

 

Most of these goals are not new ideas, and quite a few of them originated in the Republic. But like most of the good ideas that arose after the Empire fell, they languished.  Stalled in the tortuous series of legislative hurdles that the New Republic constitution required.  It was all designed to protect the sovereignty of individual systems.  But in practice, it meant galactic level government was woefully inadequate and slow.  Entrenched business and crime interests knew the best techniques to bury legislation in years of committee meetings.  The few meaningful laws that were enacted quickly became the target of legal challenges to delay their implementation.  Everything got bogged down under endless due process.  It was all a lot of talk and too little action. 

 

The rhetoric of democracy is great, Kylo knows.  It’s the real-world experience of democracy that is disappointing.   Because the unfortunate truth is that the will of the people often results in bad choices.   And even when good choices are made, they take far too long to implement.  Democracy works on a system level, but it doesn’t work for the galaxy as a whole, Kylo long ago concluded.  There are too many competing interests and too many difficult problems to solve.  And there is too much lack of consensus on the issues between the Rim and the Core.  Decentralized power and a ridiculously large New Republic Senate meant nothing ever got done. 

 

And that was fine if you lived in the well-run, fully developed Core.  But if you lived in the Mid Rim or the Outer Rim, chances are you suffered.  It’s true that power abhors a vacuum.  And so, in these far-flung areas, crime syndicates and business interests assumed the mantle of leadership.  It had predictable results, for no one was looking out for the public interest.  That meant the common man struggled.  As the years wore on, these citizens grew more and more disenchanted with the empty promises of the New Republic.  Some joined the First Order to take up arms for their cause, but most remained on the sidelines a silent majority of sympathizers who watched and waited for the war to be over.  Kylo knows that these people largely disagree with his methods but they agree with his big picture goals.  The First Order needs to win these people over if he is to govern peacefully long term.  And that means he needs to show results.  But people are impatient.  And the free press absolutely hates him.  Already, the citizenry has become skeptical.  There is an awful lot of grumbling these days. 

 

All this responsibility gets him down, very down.  Being Supreme Leader isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  And so, once Kylo has shown his face and his sword a few times during a tour of the Rim fleet and the major Rim garrisons, he heads to Mustafar.  No trip to the Rim is complete without at least a quick stop by his grandfather’s castle. 

 

He’s here to collect a new sword for Rey from Vader’s personal collection.  He plots to impress her by presenting it as a peace offering.  Kylo keeps trying to find ways to empower Rey through giving her a Senate position and more financial and personal security.  But she doubts his motives.  That’s not surprising, but it is frustrating.  Can’t she see he’s only trying to help her?  He’s hoping she will respond better to something tangible like a weapon.  A sword might even rekindle Rey’s interest in the Force, he hopes. 

 

With the sword selected, Kylo checks the time and decides he can spare an hour in meditation.  Usually, he floats in the Force when he spends time at Vader’s castle.  This place is unusually attuned to the Force.  Plus, the deserted world of Mustafar has no other lifeforms to disturb his focus.  Coruscant, with its billions of inhabitants, requires absolute discipline for true concentration.  But here there is no need to block out others.  It is easy, almost effortless, for Kylo to sink very deeply into the Force.  And when he drifts like this at Mustafar, inevitably the World Between Worlds beckons. 

 

Sure enough, there it is.  A Force portal that leads to another life in another time.  It teases him with possibilities.  And Kylo accepts the offer.

 

He walks through the portal and the first thing he notices is that he is handcuffed.  Tightly.  He looks down in dismay at his hands poking out from a loose brown tunic to be encircled in military grade binders.  What he sees causes him to blink.  His right hand is mechanical in this reality. Great. There’s a story there.  And what’s with his sandy boots?  Is this Tatooine again?  Because he hates sand. 

 

No, this isn’t Tatooine.  Looking around, this reminds him of . . .   Nah, it couldn’t be.  But it is.  The Death Star.  And wait—is this Death Star I or II?  Because all things considered, he’d rather be on the replica version without the trench run friendly design flaw.  But if this is Death Star II, hopefully it’s completed.  Because if Uncle Lando blows this thing up while he’s on it, he’ll be pissed.  Kylo doesn’t know if he can actually die in the ephemeral World Between Worlds, but he’d rather not find out. 

 

Still taking stock of his surroundings, Kylo glances around at the squad of stormtroopers who guard him.  There’s also a dour faced Imperial captain at his side.  He’s in custody, obviously.  But why?  

 

Up walks his uncle.  He has both his hands, Kylo notes sourly.  Looking like a younger, fitter Count Dooku, this middle-aged version of Luke Skywalker is cleanshaven without the Jedi beard.  He’s dressed in tailored black with a three-quarter cape hanging about his shoulders.   His uncle wears an expression of extreme annoyance.  That much looks familiar.  The rest of the look is jarring.  Yellow Sith-eyed Luke Skywalker looks him over with distaste. 

 

The captain snaps to rigid attention and salutes.  Then, the man hands his uncle a very familiar blue lightsaber. “He was armed only with this, my lord.”

 

My lord??   Whoa, this is weird and getting weirder by the moment.  Whatever happens in this reality, it’s sure different from his own, Kylo judges. 

 

“Good work,” creepy Darth Luke nods.  Then, he commands, “Leave us.”

 

He and his uncle are alone now except for the red robed Imperial guards who flank the door they stand outside.  “I’ve waited a long time for this moment.  Your meddling ends today,” his uncle informs him smugly. 

 

Kylo says nothing.  His Force attuned sense are on high alert.  Because when two Skywalkers walk into a Death Star throne room, all bets are off.  Chances are one of them won’t walk out alive.

 

“Come on.  He’s waiting.”  Luke motions to the door and it opens. 

 

With a deep breath, nervous Kylo steps forward into the dimly lit audience chamber.  The sepulchral atmosphere only adds to his unease.  He has no idea who’s he’s meeting and what the dynamics of the situation are, but he’s the one in handcuffs and that doesn’t portend well.

 

His uncle follows on his heels.  Luke Skywalker is the Apprentice enforcer in this version of events.  He stands at the back of the room by the door with his right hand resting on his saber in a silent threat.  

 

Kylo stands alone in shackles all by himself.  He’s sweating now with anticipation.  He really has no idea what’s going to happen next. 

 

The chair on the high dais is swiveled away facing the giant observation window, so Kylo can’t see its occupant.   Is this his grandfather?  Could this be Palpatine?  Perhaps even Snoke?  The list of possibilities is pretty short.  But if this is Darth Maul in his criminal guise ruling the galaxy like he ruled Crimson Dawn, law and order Kylo Ren is going to be pissed.

 

Finally, after a long moment of deliberate suspense, his host speaks.   It’s a croaking baritone that betrays advanced age.

 

“Welcome young Skywalker.  I have been expecting you.”

 

The chair swivels to reveal none other than Darth Sidious himself.  The Sith Emperor mastermind looks like a shriveled old crone, so damaged is he from misuse of the Force.  This guy makes Snoke look pretty, Kylo thinks to himself.   All the official photographs of Emperor Palpatine on the holonet were clearly very airbrushed.   And probably a good thirty-five years younger at least.

 

Darth Sidious flashes a satisfied smirk.  It’s clear he is relishing this moment just like his uncle.  “I have waited a long time for this moment, Jedi.”

 

Jedi?   Wait—what?   He’s the Jedi in this reality?   What sort of fuckery is this??  Kylo is chagrined to find himself on the Light Side.  Damn, he’s glad this isn’t his actual reality.  He’d be a terrible Jedi.  For one, he’s far to interested in girls.  Well, mostly in Rey.

 

Sidious now addresses his uncle in the back of the room. “Well done, my good and faithful Apprentice.”

 

Luke nods his acknowledgment and Darth Sidious turns back to him.  He leans forward slightly on his throne as he warns, “By now you must know that your uncle can never be turned from the Dark Side.  So it was with your grandfather.  All the Skywalkers must join me or die.”

 

Uh oh. This isn’t good.  But maybe if he just agrees to join up with Team Sith, Kylo plots, all will be fine.  And if he has to kill his uncle as the current Apprentice to take his place, he’s okay with that.  Any reality in which he gets to kill his uncle is a good reality, Kylo decides.

 

Luke Skywalker speaks up. “He was found on Jakku.  At the observatory.”

 

Ah . . . that explains the sandy boots.

 

Darth Sidious is visibly displeased.    

 

“He saw the relics.  He saw the map.  Master, he knows,” Luke Skywalker reports ominously. 

 

Knows what?

 

“Does he know what he has found?”  Palpatine now directs the question to him. “Well?   Do you, Jedi?”

 

That’s his cue.  Uncomfortable to be on the hot seat, Kylo hazards a guess.  “The Unknown Regions.”  He knows from searching the Imperial archives for information about the whereabouts of his hiding uncle just how obsessed with the Unknown Regions Darth Sidious and Darth Vader became.   Palpatine must have been seeking to expand his Empire.  Apparently, ruling the known galaxy was not enough.   To plot navigational strategies into the great unknown expanse of space, the Empire constructed observatories in remote systems to monitor its probe droids.  And, Kylo now knows, there is an observatory on Jakku of all places.

 

It’s a good guess.  Kylo is correct.

 

“Unknown does not mean empty.  Do you know what’s out there, Jedi?” the Emperor probes.

 

Kylo shrugs and smirks.  He’s playing the defiant captive now.   “Gravity wells.  Black holes.  That sort of thing.” 

 

“All that and more.   It’s not what is out there that concerns me, so much as who is out there.”  Sidious raises a skeletal forefinger now to admonish.  “It was I who sent Lord Vader on his quest.  I knew that he plotted to overthrow me.  I foresaw his attempt.  So I let Vader construct the castle on Mustafar.  I let him dabble with relics.  I knew he could not wield the Dark Force so deeply without gaining his notice.  And sure enough, he noticed.”  Palpatine’s eyes narrow as he warns, “He always notices.   He is very vigilant.”

 

Kylo isn’t following any of that speech.  He still has no clue what’s really going on.

 

“Give up looking for Lord Vader.  He’s never coming back.  I sent him like a lamb to the slaughter.”  Sidious looks every bit as devious as his reputation in this moment.  “Your grandfather is dead if he’s lucky.  If he’s not, then he wishes he were dead.  Three hundred years he made Revan suffer.  Others have met similar fates.  You’ll be tortured and dead too if you go looking for him.   He will leech your power for himself.  Dark Side, Light Side—it matters not.  He does not distinguish between the Force.”

 

Darth Sidious stares him down now.  “Tell me, Jedi, does he call to you too?   Is that what brought you snooping on Jakku?”

 

When Kylo doesn’t answer, Sidious rises from his chair.  He moves slowly as he descends, speaking all the while.

 

“Does he tempt you with Darkness?  Does he praise your bloodline?  Herald you a son of Darkness made in his own image?  He is the ultimate narcissist.  The only thing he loves more than power is himself.  Don’t think that because of who you are he will let you live.”

 

The hairs on Kylo’s neck start to stand on end as Lord Sidious continues.  This is all becoming uncomfortably familiar, and that makes it even more confusing.

 

“Does he want you to finish what he started?   Does he tempt you with immortality?  Only the young want to live forever.  In maturity, Jedi, you will know why.  One life is enough.”

 

Kylo swallows hard, wishing he had never stepped through the portal on Mustafar.  Because he remembers a voice that called to him when he was young.  A voice that haunted his dreams on and off for years before he understood what it was.

 

“Well?” Palpatine demands with impatience.

 

Kylo keeps his silence.   He’s trying hard to make sense of what he’s hearing, searching in the Force for insight.  Why has the Force brought him here to this reality?  What is the message to be gleaned?

 

The Sith Emperor is clearly enjoying his confusion, thinking he’s scoring points.  “Does he promise to bring your parents back from the dead?   It’s true, he can do it.  But don’t bother. I’ll only kill them again.  They will suffer a second time.   Skywalkers only get to live if they bend to my will.”  This boast rubs Kylo the wrong way and Palpatine sees it.  “Your grandfather bent his knee to me.  Your uncle calls me Master.   But you stubbornly refuse.  You have too much of your mother in you.  And you know what happened to her.” 

 

Suddenly, Kylo understands.  He doesn’t know the details, but the big picture is clear.  “You’re afraid!” he accuses.    “You’re afraid that you will never be as strong as—as--” 

 

As Snoke? 

 

Snoke??

 

Dare he say the name aloud?

 

When Kylo hesitates, Palpatine jumps in.  “Young fool,” he drawls.  “I cannot be betrayed.  I cannot be beaten.  Even if you could somehow find him, free him, and return, you will lose.  For I have the ultimate power in the universe.”  Darth Sidious gestures about them to his Death Star.  “Oh, I assure you I am perfectly safe here.  You, however, are not.”  With a glance behind him at Luke, Sidious now decrees his fate:  “I already have my new Vader.  I have no use for you.  Prepare to meet the Force, Jedi,” he announces as he raises his hands.

 

Fuck, he’s not messing around.  Darth Sidious starts shooting Force lightning with a vengeance. It nails Kylo and sends him to his knees.

 

Ouch.  It hurts.  It really hurts.  But it’s nothing like Snoke’s lightning.  

 

Actually, it’s not even close to the power and pain of Snoke’s Force lightning.  And that gives Kylo new courage.  Gritting his teeth, he struggles to his feet, swaying for balance with his hands still bound.  Sidious pauses his onslaught a moment as frowns.  Apparently, this is not the reaction the Sith Master was hoping for.

 

And that just eggs Kylo on.  “That’s all you got?” he sneers at the Darkest Sith the universe has ever known.  “That’s it?”

 

He can do this, Kylo decides.  He can take this guy.  He might as well try.  He’s a Skywalker and members of his clan don’t die easily.

 

Kylo concentrates a second and his cuffs fall away.  Then he stares hard at Darth Sidious and summons his own Darkness.  Kylo might be a Jedi in this reality but he was the Apprentice in another life.   He’s the Master slaying, galaxy ruling Supreme Leader Ren.  Hux and the media might mock him, but he’s the real fucking deal and a Skywalker to boot.  And long ago as a young, completely innocent Padawan he accidentally summoned the Dark Side in self-defense.  It created a shockwave that destroyed his friends.   In a great irony, that unwitting act ruined his life even though it saved it.  But years later, Kylo still remembers that trick.  With a moment of supreme concentration and a quick prayer to the memory of his Sidious slaying Sith grandfather, Kylo Ren lets loose.  Take that, you prune faced asshole who treated mighty Lord Vader like shit.  In his reality, Darth Sidious died at the hands of a Skywalker.  Kylo is determined that will be the outcome in this version of events as well.

 

The ripple of blue energy that emanates out from Kylo is like an earthquake in the Force.  It twists steel.  It breaks bone.  It ruptures flesh. 

 

At the door, the red robed guards crumple before they can cry out. 

 

Behind him, his glowering uncle staggers and falls.

 

Before him, standing the closest of all to him, frail Lord Sidious gasps and flails before he falls prone.

 

It is over in a matter of seconds, leaving Kylo depleted but standing.  He looms over his tormentor, the heretofore menacing Sith Emperor.  Now on his back, staring up in amazement, Lord Sidious croaks out, “It’s you . . .   It’s you . . .  You were the one all along . . .”  

 

Huh?  “What?”  What is he talking about?  Well, who cares.  Time to finish the job.  Kylo raises his hands and prepares to shoot some Force lightning of his own.

 

“He felt that.  He will hunt you.  He will find you,” Sidious gasps out.  “He who controls the Chosen One controls everything in the end.  Run, boy, run . . . ”

 

Those words stop Kylo in his tracks.  Darth Vader was the Chosen One who destroyed the Sith.  At least in the version of this story that Kylo lives in.   But poor Vader died before he could balance the Force.   That part was left undone.

 

“You are the Sith’ari,” Sidious hisses.  He gasps out words that grow progressively more faint.  “Our prophet has finally come!  Make us stronger!  Fulfill your destiny!  Find him and kill him and you will be the one.”

 

What the fuck?   If Sidious is talking about Snoke, then Snoke is dead.  Kylo already killed him.  He got the Darth Maul special, cleaved cleanly in half.  And since Snoke was no Zabrak who could survive such an injury, Snoke is dead.  Kylo took the time to launch the remnants of Snoke out the _Supremacy_ airlock just to be sure.

 

Glancing over at his presumably dead uncle face down on the floor and then over at the dying Darth Sidious, Kylo decides he is done with this reality.  Forget finishing Palpatine off.  All this cryptic prophesy talk is freaking him out.  So Kylo does what he did the last time he pulled that shockwave Force trick:   he panics.  Kylo runs right back through the portal.

 

Seconds later, he is back on Mustafar in his own reality at his grandfather’s castle retreat.  Kylo heaves a deep sigh of relief.

 

This is a haunted castle, he decides.  Haunted by ‘what if’ possibilities that contrast sharply with life’s deepest regrets.  It’s times like these that Kylo feels terribly alone.  How he wishes his Sith grandfather were around to give him guidance and support.  To explain these mysteries.  To teach him leadership.  To put the Force in perspective.  Kylo has no one who can relate to his experience now but Rey.  And Rey has sworn off the Force.  He’s made progress with her but there is still a long way to go.

 

But at least that’s over.  Sometimes the World Between Worlds is too much.  Every time Kylo exits back to his own reality, he swears to himself that he will never enter the portal again.  But then . . . a few months later . . . curiosity and loneliness get the better of him and he ventures into the unknown again.

 

As usual, Kylo ruminates over his experience in the aftermath.  What did that mean?  In the absence of a teacher, Kylo looks for answers in the Force.  There is meaning to everything, Snoke used to teach.  So . . . what was the meaning of that?  Who was Darth Sidious so paranoid about and why?  Could it really have been Snoke?

 

In Kylo’s own reality, Snoke hid in the Unknown Regions as a minor Dark Side Force user with incredible wealth.  His Master was a shadowy figure whose backstory didn’t quite add up.  When questioned on discrepancies, his explanations weren’t quite lies but they were dissatisfying all the same.   Kylo would learn one fact about his Master’s past and it would shift the mosaic of information a little.  But it never quite came together into a cohesive tale.  And that’s how Snoke wanted it. 

 

Snoke’s encyclopedic knowledge of the Force far outpaced his actual power.  It didn’t match his claims to be a self-taught Force user.  But most intriguing of all, Snoke had the private, behind the scenes, word-of-mouth history of many Jedi and Sith.   Luke Skywalker hadn’t known one tenth of Snoke’s knowledge about Darth Sidious and his uncle had actually met the Emperor.  And it didn't stop there.  From Master Yoda to Master Syfo Dias, Snoke knew both the big picture history and all the juicy dirt going back generations of prominent Force-users.  Truthfully, old Snoke was something of a gossip.

 

Outwardly, his old Master claimed to admire Palpatine and his Empire.  And maybe that was true in some respects.  But Kylo long ago realized that Snoke’s First Order was an opportunistic play to rally the disgruntled, marginalized Imperial exile elites.  The remnants of the Empire had an axe to grind against the New Republic and that made them easy to manipulate.  In addition, they readily acquiesced to the idea of Snoke as a replacement for the Dark Side strongman Emperor Palpatine.  With an open checkbook to finance a new war machine, Snoke said and did all the right things and easily slid himself into the slot as leader.  A few Vader chokes and some lightning were all it took to impress the laymen of the Force. 

 

The First Order leadership didn’t know what Kylo himself came to realize in time:  that Snoke was far more brains than Force.  He was simply a rich guy with some Force sensitivity who had amassed so much wealth that he had grown bored and turned to something new.  Instead of pursuing credits, he decided to pursue power.  Snoke became as ruthlessly strategic about conquering the Republic as he had once been about business.  But the trappings of his luxurious life as a private citizen still remained:  the flashy clothes, the flashy ship, and the relaxed bon vivant personality that could morph in an instant into ruthless cruelty.

 

Snoke wasn’t a proper Sith and he disavowed ever being trained as a Jedi.  He mostly disdained the ideologies of the Force.  But he hated Luke Skywalker, mostly because Snoke held him responsible for the death of Darth Vader.   His grandfather had almost singlehandedly destroyed the Jedi Order, which Snoke saw as healthy progress.  He very much wanted to stop Skywalker from rebuilding a new generation of Jedi.  That was mostly, Kylo suspected, because Snoke knew those new Jedi would oppose him and win. 

 

From the beginning, Snoke made it clear that he wanted his Apprentice to be a new Vader . . . only better.  No pressure there.  To that end, Snoke encouraged Kylo to discover his true Skywalker heritage.  On an emerald moon, he dug up what little remains of his grandfather's armor.  Next, Kylo made a pilgrimage to Tatooine where Snoke insisted he find his great-grandmother’s grave.   Then, the first day Kylo cast Force lightning, Snoke presented the best possible reward.  He handed over the coordinates and keys to his grandfather’s castle on Mustafar.  This is your birthright, Snoke intoned solemnly.  Your grandfather would have wanted you to have this when you were old enough.  One day, you will be everything Lord Vader was and more.

 

Kylo had long assumed that meant that he too would play the masked enforcer role to Snoke as the power that safeguards the power.  That he would be the military minded Apprentice who helps to rule the unified galaxy.  His job would be to put down rebellions and stamp out rival Force-users to keep a stranglehold on power.  Because only a strongman figure can keep law and order long-term.  At least, that was the public version of his grandfather who the galaxy knew.

 

But here on Mustafar are the relics of his grandfather the private man.  The extensive medical apparatus and the replacement prosthetics Vader tinkered with incessantly.   They bear witness to a life full of physical limitations and pain.  Here too are the lightsabers collected from fallen Jedi during the Purge and the library of Jedi holochrons and archival records snatched from plundered temples.  For a man so determined to destroy the Jedi, Vader sure kept a lot of their stuff around.  But there is plenty of Sith paraphernalia to be found as well.  Dark holochrons, fragments of journals from long dead Sith Masters, and ancient masks and armor designs.  There are even detailed records of Force experiments that appear to be focused on resurrecting the dead.  Light Side, Dark Side--Vader must have studied it all.  His grandfather was a devoted Force nerd until the end.  But what exactly had he been hoping to achieve?  Sadly, it’s just one more unanswered question about the real motivations of the man born Anakin Skywalker.

 

One thing is clear from Vader’s life:  he was conflicted, just like Kylo.  And he too started out a good Jedi before he careened into Darkness.

 

Years ago, Kylo had been a good Jedi.  While he wasn’t happy to be sent off to train, he eventually came around to the idea and worked hard to master his craft.   His uncle dogged him incessantly though.  Far more so than any of the other students.  Luke Skywalker was paranoid about the Dark Side and lectured against it constantly.  He watched his nephew carefully for signs of it budding.  And so, naturally, Darkness became the forbidden fruit that the Padawan with a rebellious streak wondered about now and then.  Kylo’s Dark thoughts were fantasies mostly, plus a few rudimentary forays into mind manipulation.  Nothing major, but Luke took them seriously and tried to kill him for it. For even the temptation to Darkness was a mortal sin for Master Skywalker.  

 

His uncle’s fears became a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy.  Luke almost killed him for what his uncle feared he might someday become.  It was completely unfair.  Because at the time, that was a future Kylo hadn’t even wanted.   But, as fate would have it, young Ben Solo became that monster anyway thanks to the cataclysmic misstep of his skittish uncle.   Kylo’s instinctive Force shockwave in self-defense sealed his fate forever.

 

Rey and others might refuse to recognize it, but Kylo is as much a victim as he is a villain. 

 

He hates being a Skywalker. To be a favorite of the Force means that your life is not your own and your choices are illusory.  For no matter what you think you are choosing, the result is always the same.  One way or another, a Skywalker always ends up at the epicenter of everything.  Plus, your plight—whether Dark or Light--is overshadowed by the legacy of his grandfather. His parents and his uncle lied about it even as they tried to atone for it.  He has embraced it and tried to recreate it with Snoke’s help.  But still, Kylo is not sure of what that achieves, if anything.  All in all, the dumpster fire that is his life gets him down.  Very down.   Here he is, the young ruler of the known universe, and he is terribly unfulfilled. 

 

Still disturbed by his experience in the Force portal, when Kylo returns to his shuttle he orders a complete data dump from the Imperial archives on the observatory projects and the probe droid explorations into the Unknown Regions.  Next, he tells his pilot to set course for Jakku.  He’s this far out in the Rim already, he might as well investigate the observatory there for himself.   But he won’t do it alone.   He knows the perfect person to assist.   Kylo turns to an aide and orders the Palace to collect Rey and put her on a fast shuttle.   If there is something important to learn on Jakku, she will know how to find it. 

 

But will she balk at coming?   Kylo sends a short text message to the comlink he gave her.  “Meet me on Jakku.  I’m going scavenging.” is all it says

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chancellor Hux takes Rey’s request for mentorship seriously.  Each morning first thing, he has Rey sit in on what he calls his morning meeting.   It’s the twenty minutes each day when Army Hux goes over his schedule with his chief aide.  It’s all about him, naturally, but Army narrates the whole time for her benefit.  Hux’s snark and anecdotes turn out to be a surprisingly effective way for Rey to learn the key players and important events at the Senate. 

 

This morning, Army’s aide reports, “The press conference has been pushed back an hour.”

 

“Fine.  Make sure to get the good hair and makeup team.  I looked pasty during the last one.”

 

“Of course,” the aide quickly agrees while Rey smothers a smile at this vanity. 

 

“And keep those camera bots chest level or higher.   They gave me a double chin they were so low last time,” Army complains testily.  The man complains a lot.  It’s basically his default setting.

 

“Yes, Sir.”  The aide, like everyone else, hastens to do Chancellor Hux’s bidding.

 

As if sensing Rey’s amusement, Army turns to her to impart stern wisdom.  “In politics, your public image matters.  It should be consistent and easy to understand at a glance.  This,” Army points at her one good dress, the crimson red day gown she wore to give her introductory speech. “This is good.  You need more of this.  Go buy this dress in a rainbow of somber, grownup colors.  This dress and that bitchy, tight hairdo are perfect together.  It’s pretty in a completely unsexy way.  Very Mon Mothma,” he approves.  Rey reaches up to pat self-consciously at her severe chignon but Army has already moved on.  His mind, like his wit, moves quickly.  “And get a cape.  Nothing says power like a cape.” 

 

“Okay,” she nods, making a mental note to go shopping.

 

With that lesson concluded, Army’s aide resumes his schedule talk.  “The Chairman of Kuat will be here this morning.  He’s making the rounds to lobby against Ren’s military budget cutbacks.”

 

“Fine.  What else?”

 

“A representative from the Palace will be by to go over the plans for the Empire Day festivities.”

 

“You handle that,” Army makes a face.  “I’m bored just hearing about it.  All I care about is my speech.  Have they sent over an outline for my State of the Empire speech yet?”

 

“I’ll check, Sir.”

 

“What else?” Army is especially impatient this morning. 

 

“You have a meeting with the Senate leadership over lunch.  The delegation from Chandrila is stopping by beforehand for the standard meet and greet.”

 

“Chandrila.”  Army rolls his eyes.  “That is the whiniest system in the galaxy.   More calls for legal reform, I take it?”

 

Army’s staffer nods. “They will be presenting you with a proposal for civil rights.  Due process. That sort of thing.”

 

“Are they still against Ren’s most wanted list?” Army wants to know.

 

His man nods.  “They feel the accused should receive trials before they are executed.”

 

“Whatever.   It would be a show trial anyway. In fact,” Army considers, “most likely, a trial would turn out to be a PR win for us.  Who’s going to sympathize with the drug pushing Pikes and gangster Hutts?”  The Chancellor turns to her.  “Rey, you should be present for that photo op.  It’s your kind of issue.  Have your people draw up a press release in support of it.  Glom on to all that press coverage.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Just be sure to agree with us on Ren’s approach to cleaning up the Rim.  You’re in favor of rights for the accused for regular people.  Just not for Hutts and Pikes.”

 

She frowns at this inequity.  “Why shouldn’t people be treated the same before the law?  Why make an exception for the Hutts and the Pikes?”

 

“Stop standing on principle,” Army chides.  “To be an effective dissenter, Rey, you need to have points of agreement with the regime.  You need to appear reasonable on something, or you will marginalize yourself completely,” he warns.  “After that introductory speech, you already look crazy leftwing.  Time to walk it back a bit.”

 

“Okay,” she defers reluctantly.

 

“You think cleaning up the Rim and fighting crime is a good idea,” Army explains, “but you want to protect the innocent, too.  Use words to that effect.  Learn to straddle issues, Rey.  Get on both sides of the controversy, if you can.  That way, it will be easy to side with the winner.”

 

“Got it.”  She’s got a lot to learn about this politics gig, she knows. 

 

Just then, without so much as a knock, a neat looking man in Palace livery marches into the Chancellor’s office.  “Senator, you have been summoned,” the newcomer announces to grand effect. 

 

His reception is less than enthusiastic.  Army eyes the man as though he were a bug.  Then he waves a dismissive hand his direction.  “Duly noted.  I’m busy.   Tell Ren, I shall be there shortly.”

 

“Not you, Chancellor,” the messenger corrects him.  “Her.”

 

“Me?” Rey blinks in surprise.

 

Army blinks too.  His eyes narrow at this perceived diss.

 

Ignoring bristling Hux, Kylo’s aide addresses Rey.  “Senator, you have been summoned,” he repeats in a tone that suggests Rey might be the guest of honor at her own execution.

 

“Oh.”  She exchanges worried glances with Army.

 

“There is a shuttle waiting for you on the back landing pad.   It will take you to our Leader.  You are requested to leave immediately.  It’s a rather long fli--”

 

“What is this about?” Hux rudely interrupts.

 

“Senator, if you please, check your comlink,” the aide requests, still pointedly ignoring Hux.

 

She does.  Rey makes a face at the message she reads.  “Jakku?   He’s on Jakku?”  She has no desire to ever go back there again.

 

“The shuttle will rendezvous with a cruiser in the system.  It’s an eighteen-hour flight, so you need to leave immediately.  He does not like to be kept waiting.”

 

Rey looks to Army in undisguised dismay.  “I don’t want to go to Jakku,” she half-wails, half-whimpers.  Just the thought of that place summons anxiety for Rey.

 

This reaction was anticipated apparently.  Because Kylo’s aide announces, “We were instructed not to take no for an answer, Senator.”  On that cue, two red armored praetorian guards enter the room to flank Rey.  No one lays on a hand on her, but the visual threat of force is effective.  Looking around mulishly, Rey decides she could take those guys all on her own if only she had a lightsaber.  But she is currently wielding only a datapad and a stylus, and with the Force alone she is no match for two heavily armed praetorians. 

 

“What is this about?” irked Hux demands again.  He’s on his feet looking ready to assert his authority.

 

“There is no cause for alarm.   This is not an arrest.”

 

“It sure looks like it,” Rey snaps back.  Glaring around at the praetorian thugs, she concedes, “Alright, I’ll go.”

 

“What’s on Jakku?”  Army demands.

 

“Nothing,” she gripes.  “That’s why I left.”  Jakku is a soul-leeching, dream-killing wasteland in her opinion.  It’s the one instance where she has decided to take Kylo’s advice to leave the past behind.

 

Army turns back to Kylo’s aide.  “Why is Ren on Jakku?”  he demands.

 

“His Excellency did not inform me.”

 

Flummoxed Hux looks suspicious.  “I don’t like this.”

 

Neither does she.  Rey very much resents Kylo’s highhanded tactics.  And she has no desire to go back to Jakku.  But she puts a good face on it to dampen down the incipient conflict.  Rey flashes a weak smile at Army.  “It will be alright.  Chancellor, we’ll catch up when I get back.”

 

Army nods, still looking troubled.  “Take your datapad and work on learning your issues during the flight.   And read the major newsfeeds daily.  You need to keep abreast of current events.”  As Rey is hustled from the room, he calls after her, “When you get back, we need to work on your next speech.”

 

After being conspicuously paraded by the praetorians through the Senate corridors like she’s on a perp walk, Rey is promptly deposited on a shuttle for a long, boring flight.  While she is tempted to fire off a message to Kylo telling him exactly how she feels about being kidnapped back to Jakku, Rey decides to hold her fire and wait to tell him off in person.  She sits and stews instead.

 

Two long naps and many hours of pointless holonet surfing later, Rey’s ship arrives at the rendezvous point.  As her shuttle docks in a cruiser’s hangar bay, Rey spies Kylo.  He is hard to miss in the brightly lit space.  Kylo awaits her in his full regalia—mask, surcoat, cape, and gloves all in the deepest black.  He has his arms crossed looking impatient.  Around him are a cluster of liveried aides and some stormtroopers.  Altogether, it’s a rather daunting looking receiving line.  But Rey is not easily cowed.  As soon as the shuttle ramp descends, she marches straight for her host, ready to vent her bad mood about this situation. “Senator.”  Kylo’s voice is modulated deep and gruff.   The ugly blank mask nods at her.  

 

And despite her best efforts, Rey is momentarily thrown off.  Kylo doesn’t seem so towering in person without the outfit.  But up close dressed like this, he is very intimidating.  And maybe it’s this irritating trip to Jakku combined with the very public setting, but suddenly—very uncharacteristically—Rey is flustered.   For, as always, she and Kylo have this strange undercurrent of tension.  They seem to attract and repel in equal measure.   She’s as excited to see him as she is annoyed with him.  And that has Rey confused on how to proceed.

 

“It is customary to kneel before the Supreme Leader,” Kylo drawls when she hesitates. 

 

Is he enjoying her discomfort?  That causes Rey to rally.  She lifts her chin.  “I have terrible manners.  I’m from Jakku, remember?” 

 

“That’s why you’re here.  Come,” he beckons, dispensing with the formalities. 

 

But Rey stands her ground.  “What is this about?”

 

“I need a guide.  And you know Jakku.  Come.”  

 

Again, Rey plants her feet.  “What is this about?”

 

“Your favorite thing—saving the galaxy,” he retorts cryptically.

 

Huh?  Er . . . what? 

 

“I’ll brief you on the way,” Kylo offers easily.  If he’s angry, it doesn’t show.  “Come.”

 

Shooting him a look, curious Rey begrudgingly acquiesces and follows towards a prepped and waiting shuttle.   But she’s still mad.  “I don’t like this version of you,” Rey informs Kylo tartly, heedless of their audience.   This intimidating man covered in black head to toe is the faceless cruel antagonist for the galaxy. This is the man who threatened to kill a second grader unless she served in his Senate.  This is the man who murdered what remained of the Resistance and made her and Leia Organa watch.  It’s probably easier to do evil deeds when you can hide behind a mask, Rey surmises.  Kylo’s mask is a tool, she decides, as much as it is a defense mechanism. It is very hard to reconcile this despot Kylo with the man who shows up incognito at her apartment.  For at times, that man can be disarmingly honest, endearingly lost, and lonely in a way that is uncomfortably familiar.  Those traits are what Rey saw in him that night on Ahch-To when they touched hands.  That was the man who had her rushing off to confront Snoke.   That version of Kylo is the man she thinks of as Ben Solo, and he keeps drawing her in.  But this guy?  She hates this guy.  She even says it again.  “I hate this version of you.”

 

She can almost see his trademark smirk behind the mask.  “I like this version of you,” he snickers.  “You are perfect as the saucy, scrappy Senator.  And I love you in red.” 

 

Fuming Rey ignores the compliment.  She glances back at the retinue of stormtroopers trailing in their wake.  “Who are those guys?” 

 

“Security.  Don’t worry.   They are just for show.  You are my only backup on this mission.”  He conducts her up the ramp into his command shuttle.  Once they are inside, he grabs a bundle of clothes from a seat and tosses it at her.  “Here.  Go in the back and put this on.  You’re overdressed for the desert.”

 

“So are you,” she points out.  “You know how hot it is down there, right?” 

 

He yanks off the helmet and shakes out his ridiculously shiny hair.  Damn, the man has great hair.  Well, really, he’s great looking all over in his own quirky way.  “We’ll both be traveling incognito,” he explains as he begins stripping off his gloves.  “Now, get changed.  It’s ten minutes until we’re on the surface.”

 

The shuttle breaks gravity as Rey disappears into a small alcove in the back to yank off her fancy red day gown and slippers.  She pauses momentarily when she realizes Kylo has provided her with a First Order uniform.  But then she shrugs and puts it on.  The uniform and the boots are a reasonably good fit, and that’s all that matters.  Maybe it’s a little odd looking with the severe center part chignon and matte red lipstick she wears as Senator Rey, but whatever.  It will do.  Rey is far too preoccupied with her impending homecoming than she is concerned about what she wears. 

 

She reappears to find Kylo stripped down to his pants, boots, and tunic.  Plus the sword, naturally.  The stormtroopers and the aides aboard the shuttle obviously have seen Kylo Ren en dishabille before because they seem nonplussed to see this casual version of the Supreme Leader.

 

“I was worried you wouldn’t wear my uniform,” he approves as he looks her over.

 

“It’s just a uniform,” Rey brushes the significance off.  She’s focused on their destination.  The trepidation Jakku raises in her verges on desperation, but she’s trying not to show it.  “Are we really going scavenging?” she asks as she lays her dress and slippers aside.

 

“We’re looking for this.”  Kylo hands over a datapad open to a picture of a low, sand covered structure.  It looks like a small bunker.  “The bulk of it is underground.  It doesn’t look like much from the surface. Ever been there?”

 

“No.  What is it?”

 

“An old Imperial observatory.  It predates the Battle of Jakku by decades and it’s pretty far from the major battleground.   I want to know if it survives.  While I was waiting for you, I had these surveillance photos shot.  It looks fairly intact from the outside, but who knows what’s inside.” 

 

“You got coordinates?” she asks.  Kylo takes back the datapad to punch up a map.  “This is near the sinking fields,” Rey tells him as she studies the information.  “That’s a very dangerous area.  The desert is unstable there.” 

 

“Can you get us there safely?”

 

“Yes, I think so.  We’ll need to approach from the southeast.  And we’ll need the right equipment.  Water, speeder bikes, lights, and tools.  Grappling hooks, climbing gloves.  Stuff like that.” 

 

“We’ve got all that,” he confirms. 

 

“And weapons.  We need weapons.”  Weapons are obligatory because on Jakku people hurt you.  It is a lawless place where rival scavengers and local thugs tend to shoot first before they ask questions.  Plus, the desert has its own dangers, with snakes and other creatures always on the hunt for a meal.  Rey carried her staff for a reason and she used it often.  “You got a spare blaster for me?” she wants to know.

 

Kylo shakes his head.  But then he reaches into his pile of discarded clothes and produces a lightsaber hilt.  “Will this do?”  He offers it to Rey.

 

“Ooooh . . .”  She accepts it eagerly, turning it over in her hands.  “Where did you get this?” It looks similar but not the same as the Skywalker saber she and Kylo broke together.

 

“It’s from Vader’s collection.  It once belonged to a Jedi.”

 

Rey raises an eyebrow.  “A dead Jedi?”

 

“Is there any other kind?” he smirks.   But then Kylo flashes a genuine smile.  He’s clearly pleased with her awed reaction.   This man loves his Force and anything connected with it.   “It’s for you.  Light it up,” he urges. 

 

She does.  Everyone aboard the command shuttle silently watching them flinches at the noise.  Nothing sounds as ominous as a lightsaber igniting.  But this time, it’s music to Rey’s ears.  “Blue!” she exclaims happily.

 

“It seemed fitting.  You are the Jedi Guardian type, for sure.  Do you like it?”

 

Isn’t it obvious?  She loves it.   A new sword might be worth a return trip to Jakku.  Suddenly, her mood brightens.  Rey grins.  “Thanks.  It’s perfect.”

 

“Try not to kill yourself or me with it,” Kylo warns.  He looks as if he’s going to say more but just then an aide appears to interrupt and announce that they are in planetary orbit.  Kylo takes her into the cockpit and has her direct the pilot where to land.  Then, they offload the bikes and the equipment and she and Kylo set off alone as promised.

 

Sure enough, the observatory appears intact like in the aerial photos.  It takes some hunting to find the entrance.  Oddly enough, the security door appears powered up and functioning.  Rey overrides it easily, however.  She’s very good at wiring around old Imperial tech.  “Grab the lights,” she suggests as they begin to enter the darkened structure.  But the overhead sensors kick in when they detect movement and the interior is suddenly brightly lit.  That’s a surprise.  She and Kylo exchange glances.  Then, together they walk down a long, descending corridor that ends in an octagonal shaped room filled with humming equipment.

 

“It’s all still working,” Rey marvels as she takes in the scene.  “After all these years.  That’s some battery life.”  She turns to Kylo and starts asking questions.  “Why is all this here?”

 

He answers as he pokes around.  “Palpatine built these observatories all across the Rim.  The Empire launched thousands of probe droids into the Unknown Regions through the years. This observatory and others like it monitored the droids and processed the navigational information they sent back.”

 

“So the Empire was trying to map the Unknown Regions?” Rey surmises.

 

“It was more than that.  Palpatine was searching for someone hidden in the Unknown Regions.  Some Dark Side Force user he was afraid of.”  Kylo looks up to meet her gaze steadily.  “I think it may have been Snoke.” 

 

“Snoke,” Rey repeats as she mulls it over.   She too starts poking around.  This place is spotless, she notices.  There’s not a spec of sand in here besides what she and Kylo tracked in.  It tells her that this location has been undisturbed for years.  “Hey, there’s some bits of a droid over here.  It looks like it got blasted.” 

 

Kylo comes over to investigate as Rey turns her attention back to the humming computers.  “It’s a wonder that it’s all still up and running after all these years.  Do you think the probe droids are still sending back information?” 

 

“Forget the equipment.  We’re not here for that.”

 

“Why are we here?” Rey asks.  “What are we looking for?”

 

“Relics.”

 

Er . . . what?  “Relics?   Like religious relics?” she clarifies.

 

He nods.  “The Sith were big into relics and talismans.  The Dark Side attaches itself to objects in a way the Light does not.  It makes the relics powerful tools.” 

 

She thinks a moment.  “So you’re saying that the Sith possessed their possessions?”

 

“Something like that.  The relics concentrate the Force to amplify a Sith’s power.  The Sith were big into power.”

 

Rey frowns.  “That cave on Luke’s island was strong with the Dark Side.”  

 

“Same idea.  Places can be strong with the Dark Side just like objects can be. I have my grandfather’s mask and his castle, and they do the same thing.”

 

That reveal gets her attention.  “Wait--you have Vader’s mask?”

 

He looks pleased by her reaction.  “I’ll show it to you sometime,” he promises.  “It’s on Coruscant now.   The mask is a powerful relic.  It brings me visions sometimes.”  

 

“I saw a vision when I first touched Vader’s old lightsaber on Takodano,” Rey recalls.  “Does that mean the Skywalker lightsaber was a relic too?”

 

“Perhaps.” Kylo keeps pacing one of the walls, as if looking for something. 

 

Rey keeps thinking aloud through her own brushes with the mysticism of the Force.  “That vision from the lightsaber was mostly of you.  But in that cave on Luke’s island, the vision was all me.  I saw myself over and over again.   Different versions of me.  It made no sense.”

 

“I remember.”  Kylo stops what he’s doing to face her.  As usual, he is utterly serious about the Force.  “Rey, your vision made sense.  You just don’t understand it yet. Everything the Force shows you makes sense.   That’s why we are here.   The Force told me about this place.”

 

“In a vision?”

 

“Not exactly.  It’s hard to explain.  Someday, I’ll take you to the castle and show you.”  Kylo goes back to poking around and suddenly a hidden door slides open.  It reveals another tunnel, just as brightly lit as the first one.  But this tunnel is strewn with the wreckage of old battle droids that look like Clone Wars-era models.

 

Rey peeks around Kylo to investigate.  “There’s nothing here that looks like a relic.”

 

“The relics were here,” he points to an empty plinth recessed into the wall of the tunnel.  “The droids must have been here to protect them.  Someone destroyed the droids when they stole the relics.  Looks like they were scavenged already,” he sighs.

 

Rey disagrees.  “No one on Jakku would buy old Sith junk.”  She turns around and points at the fully functioning computer databank behind them.  “That’s what they would buy.  Operational equipment that can be retrofitted and reconditioned.  Kylo, no one has been here scavenging.  If someone had, they would have dismantled all of this and pulled the components and power cells.  I could eat portions for years on what this haul would yield.”

 

Kylo frowns at this reasoning.  “Then where are the relics?”

 

“Maybe the Emperor moved them?  Or some other Dark Sider?”

 

He considers.  “There’s a bunch of stuff at Vader’s castle.  Some of it might have come from here.”

 

“Or maybe Snoke took them?”

 

“That’s a possibility.  He loved Dark Side lore.”  Kylo now grabs for his comlink and barks orders to the aide who answers.  “Search for everything you can find in the First Order archives about the Imperial observatories.  I want to know what we knew about these places and when.”   Shutting off the comlink, Kylo looks troubled as he thinks aloud. “If Snoke knew about these observatories, why would he keep the navigational equipment still going?”

 

“Maybe he had better things to worry about?” Rey suggests.

 

“Maybe,” Kylo concedes.  “But Snoke knew plenty about the Unknown Regions.  He lived there in self-imposed exile for decades.  He liked that the Unknown Regions were mysterious and dangerous.  They provided a great place to hide.  He amassed entire armies there without the New Republic realizing it.  Snoke had a vested interest in keeping the Unknown Regions unmapped.”  Looking again at the humming equipment, Kylo frowns.  “If Snoke knew about this, he would have shut it down.”  He keeps thinking aloud.  “And if Snoke knew that Palpatine was searching for him, by that time Palpatine was dead and Snoke was already revealed to the galaxy.  What would the point be to all this then?”

 

Rey shrugs.  “Maybe Palpatine wasn’t searching for Snoke.” 

 

Kylo turns to her slowly.  “If that’s the case, then maybe Snoke was searching too.”

 

For the first time in this expedition, Rey feels a subtle prick of danger.  It’s like frisson of dread in the Force.  She locks eyes with Kylo and she can tell he feels it, too.  This is more than just the low-level feeling of desperation her homeworld dredges up. 

 

“Let me take another look at that equipment,” Rey decides as she starts to assess the computer panels seriously for the first time. 

 

Kylo hangs over her shoulder as she fiddles around and bypasses the password system almost immediately.  “You’re good with this sort of thing,” he praises. 

 

“Computers and mechanics, I understand.  It’s people who are hard.”  Rey keeps punching away at the control screens as she explains, “I’ve seen a lot of old Imperial tech in wrecks.  I spent years reprogramming and retrofitting it.  Imperial code is pretty simple once you get the hang of it.”  And that gives Rey an idea.  She starts pulling the maintenance log.  Then she begins scanning through all the major systems.  She keeps seeing anomalies and changes that don’t belong.  “That’s odd.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“This has been updated.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”  She’s positive.  “I know what the original vintage Imperial programming looks like.”  She’s very familiar with it from years of scavenging and mechanical work on this junkyard world.  “Kylo, this stuff is new.”

 

He looks askance at the equipment.  “It doesn’t look new.”

 

“Not the externals.  The data.  Someone has updated, rebooted, and modernized all of this.  Look,” she points to the update log that appears on the screen.  “Someone updated this mainframe as recently as a year ago.”

 

“Someone has maintained this place?  Is that what you are getting at?”

 

“Yes.”  On a hunch, Rey starts digging around at the bottom of the console, ripping off some loose sheet metal to look inside.  Sure enough, she finds more hard evidence that someone has been here before them.  “These aren’t the original power cells.”  She points at the power converters.  “Someone replaced them to keep this place running.  Look.” 

 

“What am I looking at?” Kylo asks as he crouches beside her.

 

“This is new.  The vintage ones have different couplings that won’t fit modern tech.  This power cell is new with an adaptor to allow it to fit the original mainframe.  And look at the marking.”  Rey shines a flashlight at the bottom of the row of power converters.  They are stamped with a procurement number and an insignia that is not the Galactic Empire. 

 

“It’s First Order military issue,” Kylo recognizes the mark immediately. 

 

They both rise to their feet as Kylo concludes, “Snoke was searching.  He was continuing what Sidious started.”

 

“Meaning the guy in the Unknown Regions wasn’t Snoke,” Rey completes the thought.  She looks around and suggests, “I guess you could get a team down here to copy all this data and analyze it. For all you know, those probe droids have found who they were looking for by now.” 

 

“Yeah,” Kylo breathes out a sigh.  He looks troubled.  “I think you’re right.” 

 

“You said there are other observatories on other worlds?” Rey asks.

 

“Yes.” 

 

“I wonder if they all have been maintained like this one.” 

 

“I can find that out.” 

 

“Why do you care about this again?”  Rey still isn’t getting the urgency and significance of all this.  But Kylo suddenly looks really spooked.  “Whoever this guy is, he can’t be a real threat,” Rey reasons.   “This stuff has been here for close to fifty years.  If this guy in the Unknown Regions is coming, he’s sure taking his time.”

 

Kylo is not convinced.  “If both Sidious and Snoke were looking for this person, then they’re important.  Rey, the Force wanted me to know about this.  I’m not here by accident.  The Force showed me an alternative reality where Vader went questing for this person.” 

 

“Why would he do that?”

 

“I don’t know.  But supposedly this guy has enormous power.   He can even bring people back to life.”

 

Rey makes a face.  Who knew the Force could create zombies?  That seems like total Dark Side stuff.

 “Resurrecting the dead?  That’s creepy.  Super creepy.”  Her thoughts rush involuntarily to the hundreds of mummified dead bodies she has seen in wrecks here on Jakku. 

 

“Resurrect . . .”  Her choice of words triggers his insight.  “That’s it!” Kylo exclaims.  “Vader had records of Force experiments at his castle.  He was trying to resurrect the dead using the Force.  This guy in the Unknown Regions has that power.  Vader must have wanted to learn that power.  That’s why he took on the quest.”

 

“Kylo,” Rey shoots him a look.  “Darth Vader is dead.  You said yourself that you have his helmet.  So whatever the Force showed you, it wasn’t real.   Maybe this bogeyman in the Unknown Regions is just some red herring and he isn’t real either.” 

 

“Sidious and Snoke thought he was,” Kylo digs in.

 

Rey opens her mouth to fight about it, but reconsiders.  Mostly, she wants to leave.  Just being on Jakku puts her in a bad mood.  Maybe what they say is true and you can never go home again.  Because you are not the same person even if home is the same place.  In the over two years since the war ended, Rey has become a very different person from the girl who scavenged the wrecks.  She doesn’t like to be reminded of her bleak past.

“Okay.  So, what do we do now?” she asks, hoping to hurry things up.

 

“I’ll get the techs in here,” he decides.    “We’ll get a data dump and figure out what the status of the search was.  We can do the same for each of the surviving observatories.”

 

“You’re disappointed,” Rey observes.

 

“I’m worried,” he corrects.  Kylo runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that she rarely sees.  Normally, this man does not lack for confidence or conviction.  “I’m worried about what all this means.” 

 

Rey makes a face and gripes, “Why does the Force have to be so cryptic?  Why can’t it just tell or show you what it means?”

 

He turns to her and imparts solemn wisdom.  “It does, Rey.  It’s just that we don’t understand.  The Force works in mysterious ways.”

 

Whatever, she thinks.  Kylo can place his faith in the Force, but she’ll place her faith in herself.  As far as Rey is concerned, the Force has only brought her trouble. 

 

“So, we’re done here?”  Rey is anxious to leave and it shows.  This timewarp observatory gives her the creeps worse than any moldering dark star destroyer wreck she’s ever explored.  Seeing Kylo’s obvious unease makes it worse.

 

“Yeah, I guess we’re done,” he reluctantly agrees.   As they walk out, Kylo asks offhand, “Should we go by your village?   Maybe go see your AT-AT while we’re here?”

 

Rey shoots him a look.  “So you can make fun of me?”

 

He seems stung by her sharp tone.  Clearly, Kylo has no idea how strongly she feels about Jakku.  “No.  I just thought you might want to see what remains.”

 

Looking away, she tells him bitterly, “I am all that remains.”  She’s a survivor.  She survived Jakku and she survived a war.  And those are two experiences she does not care to revisit ever again.  Rey stalks over to her speeder bike and hops on.   “I hate this world,” she says vehemently.  “It’s full of broken ships and broken people.  We sell junk and we sell people like junk.”  Even four-year-olds get traded for drinking money on this forsaken world.  Rey is blinking back tears now as she says it again.  “I hate this world!  There’s nothing here for me now.  I never want to see it again.”

 

Kylo has walked up beside her.  Her tirade has him looking at her with compassion.  It makes Rey embarrassed she has said anything.  But once these negative feelings bubble to the surface, they can be very hard to quell.  Even now, Rey feels herself fighting for her composure.

 

She looks away.  “Please don’t bring me here again.”    

 

“Hey, don’t cry—”   

 

“I’m not crying!”  She’s not a girl who cries.   Not usually, at least.

 

“I didn’t bring you here to upset you,” Kylo says softly. 

 

“I know.” Rey bites her lip.  “It’s just that there are some things you don't get over easily.”  Try as she might, two years later her past refuses to die.  And Kylo dragging her here today thrust that fact in her face.

 

Rey kickstarts her bike.  But it doesn’t start.  Irritated, she tries again without luck.  There must be sand clogging the starter.  She hauls herself off the bike to investigate the problem and that’s when Rey bursts into sobs.

 

It’s humiliating. 

 

Kylo stands there beside her looking as helpless as she feels.  And now she is doubly embarrassed.  If Kylo next starts telling her to leave the past behind, she’s going to light her new sword and end him right here and now.  Because Rey is not up for his patronizing currently. 

 

But Kylo doesn’t say anything.  Instead, she feels his arms encircle her in an awkward, tentative hug.  Rey is not sure which of them is more surprised or more uncomfortable.  She can count on one hand the number of hugs she’s received in life.  And something tells her it’s been a long, long time since anyone hugged Kylo Ren.

 

“I wish I would have known you were here,” he whispers into her hair.  “I would have come to rescue you from this place.”  It’s a lovely sentiment, Rey thinks, but they both know that Skywalker princes don’t rescue desert scavenger orphans.   And had Kylo known she was here, Snoke would probably have made him kill her.  Because as far as Rey can tell, it’s usually kill-or-be-killed if you are a Force user.

 

Out of the blue, Kylo now renews the question he asked once before but she never got a chance to answer.  “I know you hate Jakku.  But do you still want to go back to your old life on Dantooine?”

Does she? 

Rey ponders this point a moment as she stands with her face buried into Kylo’s chest.  More than anything, this trip to Jakku has made clear to Rey how much she wants to transcend her background.  Seeing with fresh eyes the bleak existence she survived makes her determined to put it behind her.  It’s far too late for Kylo or her parents to rescue her.  The damage is done.  But Rey don’t want it to forever define who she is.  Suddenly, she really wants to succeed at her Senator job.  Some part of her will always be the lonely, starved girl who dreamed of finding her parents.   But now her dreams are changing to fit her opportunities.

 

“If you really want to go back to Dantooine, I’ll take you back,” he offers.

 

Rey pulls back from the embrace.  “No,” she hiccups softly as she wipes at her eyes and regains her equilibrium.  “I want to try the Senator job a little longer.”

 

“Good,” Kylo approves, sounding relieved.  “I want you to stay with me.”

 

Rey doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she just starts poking at the clogged starter on her bike.  “Let’s get going,” she says gruffly.  Being emotionally weak before anyone—but especially this man—makes Rey feels especially vulnerable.  And that makes her want to assert herself.  She kickstarts the bike roughly again and this time its engine roars to life. 

 

Beside her, Kylo does the same.  “Let’s go,” he echoes her sentiment.

 

Once they are back aboard Kylo’s shuttle, Rey secludes herself in the far back and broods.  It’s a short ride to the cruiser.  There, the shuttle refuels and resupplies for the trip back to Coruscant.  Kylo disappears for an hour with his aides while Rey showers and dons her Senator clothes again.   It feels good to look in the mirror and see such a visible difference between her current self and the old Jakku version.  Then, Kylo and his aides come aboard again.  The shuttle takes off to return the Supreme Leader to his ornate palace at the bright center of the universe, with Rey tagging along. 

 

During the flight, Rey makes halfhearted attempts at following Army’s instructions to study up on all the policy white papers and legislative summaries he has provided.   Kylo mostly leaves her alone, checking on her twice to see if she’s hungry.   But she’s not hungry.   Jakku pretty much took her appetite away.  Plus, she’s angry at Kylo and this isn’t the forum to express that openly.  So, she settles on the silent treatment.

 

Kylo seems to work the whole trip back. She can hear his voice rise from time to time as he conducts a long series of comcalls.  It’s her first real appreciation of Kylo in his role as Supreme Leader responsible for the entire galaxy.  It sort of makes her homework from the Chancellor appear very meager.  Because Kylo doesn’t get to choose a few pet issues to master and advocate.  He gets them all.  Of course, he volunteered for this job, she reminds herself.  Still, she wonders if he had any idea what it would be like when he killed Snoke.  Rey knows Kylo felt pushed into being a Jedi and driven to the Dark Side by his uncle’s actions.  Does he similarly feel pushed into the Supreme Leader role by Snoke?  It’s almost ridiculous to consider the conquering Kylo Ren an accidental ruler.  But from a certain point of view, it sure looks like that.

 

Still, Kylo had choices.  Rey of Jakku had very few choices.  And what’s worse, the ones she made were wrong.  Waiting for her parents was a mistake.  Getting involved with the Resistance was a mistake.  But Rey didn’t see either error at the time.  Good intentions can still make mistakes, she knows now. 

 

Finally, she feels the lurch that reveals Kylo’s shuttle has reverted from hyperspace.  That means they’ll be landing shortly.  In fact, the Supreme Leader presents himself in person to inform her of their arrival in the Coruscant system. 

 

“We’re landing soon,” Kylo advises.

 

She looks up from her datapad.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

 

Kylo sinks down beside her on the bench.   His eyes search hers.  The blatant assessment makes Rey want to squirm.  “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

 

She looks away.  “I’m fine.”

 

“Rey, I’m sorry—” he begins an apology.

 

She cuts him off.  “It doesn’t matter—”

 

“It does.  I should never have brought you to Jakku.  I should have realized--”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupts again.  And the very insistence of her words betrays what a lie they are.  But Rey isn’t comfortable talking about Jakku.  Especially now.  She’s in a very bad mood.

 

Kylo abandons the apology.  He tries a different tactic.  “I never want to diminish you.  I hope you know that.”  And what is that supposed to mean exactly?  Rey isn’t sure.  She follows his eyes to find her new lightsaber lying beside her.  It prompts a change of topic.  “Will you let me teach you how to use that sword?” he asks.  “Let me make this up to you with some sword training.”

 

The offer is sincere but it rubs her the wrong way.  “I beat you with a sword without any training,” she reminds him.  He still has a fading scar on his face from that encounter.

 

“I want you to know how to use it properly,” he persists.

 

“I’ll think about it.”  Rey puts him off about the sword the way she put him off about that fancy apartment he offered her.  Rey is very wary about drifting too close into this man’s orbit.  This dreamy eyed man is very dangerous.

 

“Rey.”  He nabs her hand and leans in closer now.  He’s not going to?  He wouldn’t actually??  He might . . .  Rey’s mind is racing and her heart is pounding with Kylo’s sudden nearness.  “Rey, I’m sorry,” he tells her softly as he looms ever closer still.  And now, their faces are inches apart.  She can feel his breath on her cheek.  The last time she was this close to Kylo Ren, she was strapped down in an interrogation chair.

 

“Rey,” he rumbles again and now she is certain that he’s going to kiss her.  And the mix of emotions the prospect arises completely arrests her.  Rey is aghast and excited, repulsed and drawn in, terrified and eager.  But somehow, she’s not surprised.  Because this feels almost inevitable.   Ever since Kylo called her his girlfriend to those Palace guards, Rey knew this was a possibility.  Their interest in one another has never been purely platonic.  Luke saw it and so did Snoke.

 

They stay like that for one long, agonizing moment.  Part of Rey knows that if she pulls away, she will disappoint both of them.  But the aggressive Dark warrior Kylo Ren seems less than commanding in this moment.  Is he looking for encouragement?  Is she supposed to make the first move?  Rey is paralyzed and unsure of herself in the moment.  She has absolutely no experience in these things.

 

Just as Kylo goes in for a kiss, Rey turns her cheek to end the temptation.  “Don’t,” she warns even as the rest of her declines to pull away.  His very nearness is threatening but exciting, too.  “Please don’t do that,” she breathes.

 

“You’re afraid,” he correctly accuses into the ear she presents him.  “What are you afraid of?”

 

“Everything,” Rey confesses.  This man is terrifying on so many levels.

 

“There's nothing to be afraid of,” he whispers his promise.  “I won’t hurt you.”

 

Yes, he will.  Kylo might not kill her or hit her, but he will hurt her all the same.  Just like when he let her down in Snoke's throne room.  Or when he slaughtered her friends before her very eyes.  He doesn't have to physically harm her to inflict pain.  Pain stalks this man like a shadow.   He throws it out on everyone who trusts him.  From the fellow students he killed at Luke's temple, to the father he murdered in cold blood, to the dying mother he walked away from, to the Dark Master he cut down for his own gain.  Get in between this man and what he wants, and you will pay the price.  Care about him and you will someday find his indeterminate rage focused back on you.   Because Kylo Ren resists the Light he so desperately needs. 

 

His lips are hovering near her cheek still and his body is close as she edges away.  “I can’t do this,” she yelps.   It’s not the kindest way to let him down, but it’s honest.  “You have destroyed everyone who has ever cared about you.”  Rey doesn’t mince words now.  She tells him, “I’m no fool!” as she extricates herself and leaps to her feet.  Rey didn’t survive on Jakku by taking stupid risks.  She is a survivor and she knows Kylo Ren is too damned dangerous to kiss.

 

He’s looking up at her, his expression nakedly hurt.  “I won’t harm you,” he promises again.  And she can see he believes what he says, but Rey is skeptical that he can follow through.  Because good intentions aren’t enough for a man with his track record.  She and Kylo are complicated enough without adding romance to the mix.  So what if he has soulful eyes and full lips to accent his hangdog look. So what if his hair is shiny and soft and just begging to be touched.  So what if he’s got that warrior’s body beneath his tunic.  So what if he is shockingly relatable and normal when he’s not in his uniform and mask.  None of those things matter.  Because any man—even snooty, snarky Army Hux—is a safer choice than Kylo Ren. 

 

He takes her rejection badly.  His face darkens as he rises to his feet.  Yep, she has clearly offended him.  “When we land,” Kylo informs her curtly, “I’ll have one of the Palace drivers take you home.” 

 

She just nods, not trusting herself to speak.  She always says the wrong thing in awkward moments like this.

 

Kylo lingers there a moment working his jaw.  He looks like he has more to say.  But he keeps his sullen silence before he stomps off in a huff.


	12. Chapter 12

Back secluded in his palace, Kylo successfully avoids Rey for a week.  But he fails at avoiding thinking about her.  Rey is on his mind way too often.  Especially at night when he is back to spending his evenings working late because he has nothing better to do.  Suddenly, his Palace seems especially lonely.

 

He screwed up taking Rey to Jakku.  She’s so damned damaged from Jakku.  Rey hides it well and so he tends to forget about it. He chalks up her water hoarding as an eccentricity and considers her insistence on living on the Lower Levels sort of charming.   But the truth is that Rey is hurt in ways he cannot fix.   And, for once, it’s not his fault.  

 

He can give her everything.  She can have a warehouse full of water if she wants and enough nonperishable food to make her feel secure.  He will do whatever it takes to put all that deprivation and isolation behind her.  But she won’t let him.  It’s partly her innate independence and partly her mistrust of his motives.  But Kylo worries her reticence has more insidious origins as well.  He’s concerned that Rey doesn’t feel good enough for all that he offers her.  Because shit like Jakku can get in your head if you let it.  He should know.  He had Snoke trashing him and manipulating him for years.  It took maturity and discipline to successfully resist internalizing those negative thoughts.   Kylo worries that much younger Rey has not succeeded as well.

 

It’s encouraging that she wants to be a Senator.   That’s a huge step.  But that news got his hopes up and he pushed a little too far, too fast.  Rey rejected him outright on the shuttle.  She wasn’t gentle about it either.  It had stung.

 

He’s the Supreme Leader of the galaxy and the reigning Dark Master.  Hell, he’s the Last Jedi, too.  But he still can’t get the girl. He tried to kiss Rey and she practically leapt across the room to get away from him.  It’s disheartening.  But he’s not ready to move on.  He’s Kylo Ren and he’s nothing if not determined.  Plus, he could swear that Rey was interested.  Just like he could swear that Rey was interested when he made his offer in Snoke’s throne room.  That offer had been too much, too soon Kylo realizes in retrospect.  But a stolen kiss on his shuttle?  That wasn’t a declaration of allegiance.  Well . . . maybe it was in a fashion.  But he needs some encouragement.  He’s been waiting for this girl for over two years.   Destiny needs to hurry up.  He’s growing impatient.

 

She’s got trust issues.  Kylo knows his actions haven’t helped with that.  But there’s no reason for her to be afraid of him.   Can’t she see that?   He has only ever tried to help Rey.  From his offer to teach her on Starkiller Base to his offer to share power on the _Supremacy_ , he’s been trying to help.  Could this be about that night at his grandparents’ apartment?   Because Kylo swears that he won’t get in her head again.  Kylo remembers that flash of scary Sith yellow in Rey’s eyes afterwards and shudders.   He’s no fool out to destroy what he loves.  He’s not seeking to corrupt Rey and convert her to the Dark Side.  But she probably doesn’t believe that.  It’s a mystery to him how to get through to Rey.  He keeps trying but to no avail.

 

Rey isn’t the only mystery that thwarts him.  Frustrated Kylo puts down the report he’s been obsessing over and stalks across his office to the balcony.  He glares up at the Coruscant night sky.  What’s out there?   What kept Darth Sidious up at night and had him mapping the Unknown Regions?

 

The news from the other Imperial observatories has begun to trickle in.  Of the ten original locations that have been identified, six are still extant.  Every single one of those six appears to have been updated and maintained by the First Order.  But that’s where the trail goes cold.  There are no records of any missions regarding the observatories, even those on longtime First Order worlds.  That means their existence was more than just classified intelligence.  It was something akin to a state secret.  And that indicates Snoke himself was involved.  

 

Scowling again up at the sky, Kylo wonders what kept Snoke up at night?   And should he be worried too?   It’s unnerving not to know what you don’t know.  But does he really want to know this?

 

Many of the original probe droids are still functioning, sending back data transmissions from time to time.  In fact, there is evidence to suggest that the First Order launched its own probe droids to supplement the originals. That news has Kylo intrigued more than ever.  He has ordered a complete data dump from all six facilities so the information collected can be analyzed.   That will take weeks, if not months, he has been warned.  And, truthfully, Kylo is fine with that delay.  He’s worried what they will find.  Ignorance is bliss, right?

 

Except that Kylo knows he won’t be the only target of whatever being lurks in the Unknown Regions.  Rey, his counterpart in the Light, will be just as high on the kill list.  Frowning, Kylo recalls Rey’s reaction to his offer to teach her how to use her new saber.   Like learning the Force in general, Rey seems to find it optional.  The ignorant arrogance of that attitude annoys him.  Sure, she’s a natural talent.  But talent only gets you so far.  Training matters.  And Rey needs training to be able to protect herself.

 

Spurred to action, Kylo now marches out of his office and onto the landing pad.  He’s not dressed for a jaunt in public—he’s still in uniform.  Well, whatever.  Kylo commandeers a palace speeder, brushes off the offer of an escort, and heads for the Lower Levels to Rey’s apartment before he can talk himself out of it. 

 

She’s not there.

 

It’s a letdown.  But Kylo won’t be put off.   This is important.  So, he makes himself at home and opens a bottle from her water stash.  He’s sitting at her table looking out the one small, grimy window watching for Rey to walk down the street from the nearest public transport stop when up pulls a speeder.  It’s a very official looking speeder, like his own version he stashed behind the building.  Kylo’s eyes narrow.   This is unexpected.

 

Out from the speeder hops Senator Rey. Close on her heels is the Senate Chancellor himself, Armitage Hux.  Kylo would know that smug, stiff redhead anywhere.  Rey and Hux look very chummy, he assesses.  Their body language is comfortable and both are smiling.  Hux looks like he’s walking Rey to the door.  And what the fuck?  Is this a date?   Kylo peers closer and his hand unconsciously reaches for his sword.  But Hux isn’t angling for a goodnight kiss. He parts with Rey and returns to the transport to depart.     Still, suspicious Kylo plans to demand an explanation.

 

“Oh, it’s you.”  Rey greets him without enthusiasm when she walks in. “I saw the light on from the street and wondered.”  Her eyes linger on his uniform but she says nothing. 

 

“Miss me?” Kylo smirks.  It’s been a week since they have seen each other and a full week before that since he’s dropped by her apartment to see her.   What had become a nightly habit has fallen off precipitously.   Kylo misses his evenings with Rey.

 

Rey doesn’t answer.  She just frowns and points at his water.  Rey hates it when he drinks her water.  “Thirsty?”

 

“I’m hungry too. Want dinner?”  Kylo is trying to keep things light.  He wants to get back to the more relaxed rapport they had before the trip to Jakku.

 

Rey shakes her head no.  “I’m tired.”

 

“Working late?”

 

She nods as she reaches up to rub at her neck. “Army was helping me with my speech.  It’s first thing Monday morning after the cloture vote for the budget.”

 

Army.  He hates that she calls Hux Army.  That seems so wrong. 

 

“I saw him drop you off,” Kylo observes sourly as he watches Rey put down her things.  She looks like a real Senator now with her bag full of datafiles and datapads and her executive looking briefcase.  Looking at her elegant tailored long dress and severe hair, Kylo thinks she looks nothing like the greasy mechanic his men captured on Dantooine.   Rey looks polished and professional.  It’s completely appropriate, but the transformation happened fast.  Is this the hand of Hux at work?  Kylo worries it is.

 

“What was Hux doing dropping you off?” Kylo starts fishing.

 

“He was being nice,” she answers.  “Well, nice for him.  You should hear Army complain about this place.  He’s worse than you are about demanding I move.”

 

“He’s right.  Hux is smart.”   Too smart for Kylo’s estimation.  But enough about Hux.  “What’s your speech about?”

 

“Banning super weapons.”

 

Kylo sprays out the large sip of water he was about to swallow.  Then, he starts choking.

 

Rey looks sort of triumphant at his surprised reaction.

 

“W-What,” Kylo chokes, “prompted that topic?”

 

“Hosnia.”

 

“Naturally,” his sarcasm is thick.  “Well, let’s hear it.”

 

“Hear what?”

 

“The speech.  Let me hear it.  You have just been granted a private audience with the Supreme Leader.  Now’s your chance to convince me,” Kylo leers.  Then he crosses his arms and sits back to listen.

 

“Why bother?” she sighs.  “You’re not going to change your mind.”

 

It’s true.  “Then let’s skip the speech and go to dinner.  All you can drink water,” he teases her.

 

Rey doesn’t crack a smile.  Instead, she responds with a frosty glare.  “I thought we weren’t going to see each other again.  Since you seem to have gotten the wrong idea . . . ”

 

“You decided that.  I didn’t,” Kylo refuses to be rejected again.  But seeing her brow furrow, Kylo instantly amends.  “We’re still friends, right?  Like you’re friends with Hux?”  Gods, how it pains him to say that out loud.   He’s worse than consigned to the friend zone.  He’s in the Hux zone.  Kylo mentally shudders.

 

“That’s different.  Army is my new mentor.”

 

Kylo almost spits water out again.  Because what the fuck?   This keeps getting worse.  Wow, did he screw up on Jakku.  He’s supposed to be the one helping Rey.  But now she’s a groupie on Team Hux.

 

“Army’s teaching me,” Rey informs him.  “And he’s the Chancellor, so he’s sort of like my boss.”

 

The Hell he is.  If Rey has a boss, it’s him as Supreme Leader.  But Kylo’s trying to tamp down the conflict, so he lets the point go.  He changes the topic and begins angling for another way to get Rey to come out tonight.  “I have more information on the Jakku observatory.  It was updated regularly.  So were the other six observatories that remain.  Snoke even launched more probe droids.  You were right, Rey.  Snoke was searching too.”

 

“Oh.”  She looks only mildly interested.

 

“Come.  I want you to see the full report,” Kylo offers. 

 

But she keeps playing hard to get.  “Send it to my office.” 

 

“It’s too sensitive,” he improvises. “It’s for your eyes only.   Come,” he tries again. “I want to get your thoughts on it.  You and I are the only known Force users left.  This is a big concern for us personally.”

 

Rey raises an eyebrow.  “Worried you’re going to lose your Empire to some Sith no one knew existed?”

 

“Yes,” he answers honesty.  “And if you think I’m bad, then you really won’t like whoever this guy is.”   Kylo looks the Jakku survivor in the eye and appeals to her strongest instinct—her indominable will to live.  “He’ll be coming for you, too.  Don’t kid yourself, Rey.  Your name will be right after mine on his kill list.”

 

Rey frowns and then relents.  “Okay, I’ll come. But just for an hour.  I really am tired.”

 

Finally.  He’s making headway.  Kylo whisks Rey off to the Palace, into the nonpublic areas that are the private lair of Supreme Leader Ren.  Things are just as grand behind the scenes of his Palace, but his private quarters are considerably less furnished.  The walls are empty and the furniture is sparse.  It’s a little monastic, actually.  Looking around, Kylo decides it could use a woman’s touch.  But knowing Rey, she’d be piling water bottles up against the walls instead of hanging pictures. 

 

She follows him into his office.  It’s a mess of datafiles and datapads and live screens.  But Kylo knows just what he’s looking for.  “Here,” he hands her a datapad with the observatory report.  “What do you want for dinner?” he asks as he summons a droid.

 

“Whatever you’re having,” Rey answers absently as she studies the information.  She’s reading slowly and carefully.  And that tells him she truly does appreciate the situation.

 

He orders them both steak and salad.  When it arrives, Rey picks at her meat and ignores the vegetables, as expected.   He chalks that up as another vestige of Jakku.  Rey never had a parent around to harangue her to eat her vegetables. 

 

They eat in the informal dining room. Well, it’s not particularly informal.  Nothing about his Palace is casual.  But at least this room is smaller than the formal dining room that seats sixty.  His Palace feels more like a museum than a home, even in the private quarters.

 

“I wondered how you lived,” Rey remarks as she looks around.  “I didn’t picture this.”  She looks a little intimidated.  “It’s . . . it’s . . .”  She’s searching for the right words.  “It’s very grand,” she pronounces diplomatically.  But her face conveys her dislike.

 

Kylo shrugs.  “I don’t normally eat in here.  I eat at my desk.   This room is too big for one person.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that.”

 

“I like your little table in your apartment better,” he admits a bit ruefully.  “It’s homey.”

 

She nods.  “You hate this place,” she surmises correctly.

 

He shrugs again.  “Maybe a little.  Sometimes.  But it’s what people expect.”

 

“Like the uniform and the mask?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Army says public figures have to keep up appearances.”

 

“He’s right.”   Kylo eyes flit over her demure formal dress.  It looks like something his mother would wear.  And that’s probably the point.  “You have a uniform too these days.”

 

“It was Army’s idea.”

 

Geez.  Enough with the Hux talk.  And why the Hell does Starkiller Hux get a pass on his evil deeds while Kylo is perpetually in the doghouse for his transgressions?  Has Rey joined the Hux cult of personality?  He hopes not.  And is she done?  He’s done.  “Want to have some fun?” Kylo asks.  He lured Rey to his Palace to look at the observatory report, but his real plan is to get a sword in her hand.

 

“Fun?”  Rey laughs a little.  “Is that allowed?”

 

“Sure. I make the rules, remember?”

 

“So what do you consider fun?  Besides stealing speeders and executions, that is.”

 

Kylo leans forward in his chair.  “Want to break something?” 

 

“Uh . . .” 

 

“I know you’re an angry girl. You should let that out.”

 

Rey stiffens.  She’s defensive.  “I am not angry,” she says angrily.

 

“Sure, you are.  And you have a right to be.”  Jakku would make anyone angry.  “I get it.  I get anger,” he assures her.  “I’m not judging you.  Come on.”  Kylo rises to toss aside his napkin and beckons her to follow.  “Let’s go break something,” he eggs her on.

 

Curious Rey tags along as he leads her to his cavernous training room.  It’s his personal gym.  “What is this?” she asks as she starts to inspect the selection of weapons displayed on racks near the wall.  There are lightsabers, a double-bladed lightstaff, blasters, Force pikes, even a lightwhip.  Rey gives this weapons cache a once-over before she heads to inspect the mechanical opponents he fights to simulate combat.  “And what are these?” Rey wants to know as she paces the selection of deactivated droids stacked in neat rows.

 

“This,” he gestures to the wall of weapons, “is how we are going to break things.  And those,” he points to the droids, “are what we’re going to break.”

 

“Battle droids,” she breathes out before turning to him.  “How very Clone Wars of you.”

 

“They’ve come a long way in eighty years.  Don’t worry.  I’ll set them to stun. Here,” Kylo hands her a sword hilt. 

 

She lights it up.  “Red?   Really?” she complains.

 

“I don’t keep blue ones on hand.” 

 

“It looks weird.”

 

“It’s just a color.”  He selects a sword for himself and lights it as well.  “These are practice sabers,” he explains as he bounces the blade lightly off his bare palm to demonstrate.  “They bruise and sting only.  The droids have them as well.  No one will get hurt tonight.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey’s eyes widen as she watches him activate two droids.  Each springs to life brandishing a red training sword in one appendage.   They are his customized robo-Sith droids designed to keep his skills sharp.

 

“Training swords have the same heft and swing as a real lightsaber.  The only difference is the consequence of the blade,” he explains.  He smiles and asks, “Ready?”

 

“Now?” she blinks.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’m in a dress.”

 

He looks down at his long surcoat and shrugs.  “So am I, sort of.  Let’s do this.  You take the one on the right.  I’m on the left.”  And since Kylo can’t resist showing off a little, he adjusts his droid to fight with two swords.  And just to up the degree of difficulty some more, he has the droid extend a third appendage with a blaster.  It’s full-on General Grievous mode.  Is Rey impressed?  She should be impressed.

 

She is.  “Yikes,” Rey remarks as she looks askance at his opponent.  “That is some Darth Droid.  Better you than me.”   She looks from him to the battle bots and asks, “Are we actually doing this?”

 

Kylo answers by activating the droids with the Force.  Rey yelps.  “I guess we’re doing this.”   She settles low over her center of gravity and puts her game face on as she gets to work.  Soon, she’s bobbing and weaving with that same athletic grace he remembers from the Starkiller woods and Snoke’s throne room.

 

The training swords don’t hurt people and they don’t hurt the droids.  Hacking away only scores points, it doesn’t disable them.  To win, you have to strike with something other than the sword.  Meaning you have to use the Force.  And that is Kylo’s entire ploy with this exercise.  To get Rey interested in training and to prompt her to use the Force.  The Force is like a muscle—the more you use it, the stronger and more responsive it becomes.  Even a natural like Rey can benefit from training.

 

So after Kylo shows off a bit with his own droid and throws a few infinity spins in just to look cool, he blasts his bot with Force lightning.  That gets Rey’s attention.  She stops and stares as his opponent slams hard against the gym wall in a heap of fried and twisted metal.  “Wow,” she breathes out, looking thoroughly distracted.  And that’s when her own opponent scores a hit high on her right arm.

 

“Owww!” Rey howls.  She resumes her fight and starts pushing the droid back with punishing swings.  You go girl, Kylo thinks silently as he watches.  “Throw him with the Force,” Kylo suggests and Rey takes the cue.  With a mighty Force push, she heaves the training droid hard against the wall.  It slides down, thoroughly broken from the impact.

 

“Victory,” Kylo approves.  He walks over to collect the training weapons the broken droids had wielded. 

 

Breathing hard and sweating but sporting a big smile, Rey decides, “That was fun.  But it was too easy.”

 

Good.  She’s taking the bait.  But Kylo plays it cool.  “It was a beginner setting,” he shrugs.  “You can up the difficulty.  Add more weapons like I did.  Add more droids too.”

 

She nods and counters with a sly, almost sexy look, “Or . . . I could fight you.” 

 

Wait—what?  Kylo shoots her a quelling look.  “We’re not enemies.”  That’s the whole point of them—they are allies.  Dark and Light working together for the first time in history.   This evening is supposed to be about rehabilitating their relationship and repairing the damage from that trip to Jakku.  Not promoting more conflict between them.

 

Rey, however, doesn’t see it that way.  “These are training swords, right?  It’s just a sparring match.  What do you say?  Ready for a Starkiller redo?” she says cheekily.

 

Kylo shakes his head.  “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

 

“I’m from Jakku.  We fight dirty,” she boasts.

 

“I wasn’t talking about you.  Rey, you don’t know the first thing about a lightsaber duel.”  Swordplay is harder than it looks.

 

She scowls and scoffs.  “Tell that to Snoke’s dead praetorians.”  Then Rey executes her own shaky attempt at a saber twirl.  It’s kind of weak, but apparently Rey doesn’t think so.  With her hip popped out and her sword held down, she’s posturing like some bad ass bitch ready to throw down.  And she’s talking smack too.  It’s sort of adorable in its artlessness.  He can totally picture ten-year-old Rey doing something like this on Jakku with her staff. 

 

“Too bad this is a training sword, or I’d give you a new scar,” she informs him.

 

“I was shot with a bowcaster on the Starkiller.  I’m not injured now.  This wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

 

“Scared to get beat again?”

 

She’s missing his point.  “You can’t beat me healthy.”  Not a chance.

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

She really wants to do this.  Well, maybe he should give her what she wants . . . and get what he wants too.  “Sure.  Okay,” he gives in, hoping her interest in combat will rekindle her interest in the Force.  That last Force push was impressive.  “We can wager.  If I win then . . . “ Kylo pauses to consider for a moment, “then you move into my apartment.  The one on the Upper Level.”

 

“Oh.”   She wasn’t expecting those stakes.

 

“Not so confident now?” he goads her as he warms to her idea.

 

“Sure I am,” Rey retorts.   “But if I win, your regime bans super weapons.”

 

Oh.  That was Light of her.  Rey fights for the good of the galaxy and here he is fighting for his own selfish aims.  But whatever, he’s cool with it.  It’s not like she’s going to win anyway.  “You’re on!” he agrees.  Then, he lunges.

 

“Hey!”  Rey leaps back from his sudden stabbing red blade.  “No fair!”

 

“All’s fair in—"

 

“You are going down!” she trills as she automatically parries.  These are the classic attack and defense moves.   Next, Rey tries out a lunge of her own.  Like all of her moves, it has a certain fluid grace but no real discipline.  If Rey would just let him teach her the basic lightsaber forms, she could be great and not merely promising.

 

Kylo comes at her now from the left with a counterattack riposte. She blocks it fast.  Rey is quick and rough, like he remembers, with shoddy foot work that is more a scramble than the intricate dance of the fight that Snoke had taught.  Snoke had been big into footwork. Luke Skywalker, not so much.  His old Jedi Master had prized a controlled, accurate swing. Rey, of course, has neither refinement. She hasn't had any training. But in swordplay, as in everything, Rey is a quick study and she's effective even if it's not pretty.  Really, there’s nothing this girl cannot do, Kylo thinks, if she puts her mind to it.  Rey is truly amazing.

 

But he is the combatant with all the training, and that’s a distinct advantage.  "Tag, you're it!" Kylo crows as he drags a glancing blow across her upper left arm.  “If this is to first blood, I win,” he declares.

 

Rey is tough and she doesn't miss a beat. “To the death!” she snarls.  “That wasn’t my sword arm, so I’m still up and moving.”  Rey pays no heed to the slight singe on her dress.  Instead, takes a swipe at him.  Kylo has to leap high to avoid her sword. But before he hits the ground, she pushes him back hard with the Force.  He lands on the floor in a sprawl.

 

Yep, he knew she would fight dirty.  But Kylo is up on his feet and lunging fast.  Again, he tags Rey on that same arm. "You need to protect on the left, " he complains. "It's far too easy to get in.  You need a teacher,” Kylo tells her what he told her years ago on Starkiller Base.

 

But Rey scoffs.  “You know that’s a lousy pick up line, right?” 

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” he counters.  “It got you storming the _Supremacy_ to save my soul.”

 

“You’re a lost cause,” Rey announces as she swings for his head.

 

“I’d never been propositioned in an elevator before,” he recalls with a smirk.  “Where’s all that sweet, saintly compassion now?” he wonders aloud as he ducks her latest vicious attack.  “Come on, give me the speech again, Rey.  It was perfect.  Just perfect.”

 

“Speech?  What speech?”

 

“You know—'I feel the conflict with in you.  Let go of your hate.’”  He leers as he lunges to the left.  He has a long reach.  He nearly skewers Rey.  “Call me Ben again and tell me you’ll help me with all that fervent Jedi zeal.”  His heart had melted that moment.  And then, Rey warned Snoke not to underestimate Ben Solo and Kylo promptly fell in love.  Five minutes later, he had offered Rey the chance to rule the galaxy with him.  “That was a great speech.”

 

She makes a face.  “It didn’t work.”

 

“Of course, it did.  I killed Snoke for you that day.  Your Light and my Darkness made us unstoppable, Rey.  We’re still unstoppable as allies.  Better together than we are individually.”

 

“I’m not your ally!” she snaps as she slashes and hacks. 

 

“Sure, you are,” he counters.  “Or else, these wouldn’t be practice swords.  You’re used to the equal heft of your staff,” he critiques.  Unlike a normal sword, the business end of a lightsaber is weightless.  It makes the swing awkward at first.  Lightsabers have far less momentum than normal swords and staffs.   “Once you get used to the imbalance of a saber, you’ll be great.  Please say you’ll train some with me.”  He’s sincere. “This is way more fun than working.”

 

“This is me beating you to ban superweapons,” she retorts.  “Prepare to abort Death Star Four, Kylo!”

 

“I’m willing to entertain your reforms over lightsabers,” he responds.  He’s serious.  “What else do you want besides banning my big guns?”  He’s not above a bribe or two if that’s what it takes.  “Some alms for the poor?  A little due process?  Some transparency?  Come train with me and I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

“You’re going down!” she glares as she bats away his latest attack.  She tries to mimic it in reply and it’s a clumsy attempt.

 

But it’s also the opening he’s been looking for.  "You left yourself open on the left again," he chides.  Kylo easily hooks her blade and wrenches it from her hand to fly across the room. He's always been good at disarming tricks. Kylo reclaims her sword with the Force. It neatly drops into his open left palm to ignite. "And . . . there," he tells defenseless Rey who is cornered with two lit sabers at her throat. "I win."

 

“Awww, come on,” she wheedles and pouts.  “Let’s make it the best out of three.”

 

Not a chance.  He lowers his weapons.  “No altering the deal, Rey.”

 

“But I was just warming up—“

 

“You lost.  Fair and square.  Time for a new address,” he smirks. “You’re going uptown,” he can’t resist gloating a bit.  And it’s not like he’s sending her to prison.   She’s going to a luxury penthouse apartment on the Upper Level. 

 

Rey doesn’t look too happy about it.  But the whole wager was her idea.  And just look at her.  With pink cheeks and bright eyes.  She’s winded, her chest rising and falling with each breath.   Rey looks very, very kissable in the moment.  He’s half tempted to grab her and try again.  But mindful of her prior rejection, Kylo decides to move more slowly.  But now he’s kicking himself for not requesting a kiss for his prize. 

 

Seeing her consternation, he now admits, “For the record, I agree with you on super weapons.  They should be banned. But I can’t publicly agree with you.   Those technological terrors are strategic tools to maintain order.  Since everyone knows the First Order will use a super weapon thanks to Hosnia, they have a useful deterrent effect.”

 

“Do you have another Starkiller hidden somewhere?” she demands warily. 

 

That’s a subject of much speculation.  It’s top-secret intel, but Kylo spills the beans anyway.  “No.  But no one needs to know that.  Rey, if we are to break the cycle of civil war then we need to avoid further armed conflict.  Deterrence achieves that.”

 

“Through fear?” she challenges. 

 

“If necessary.  But I would prefer over time to hold the galaxy together through trade and opportunity.  To make it in everyone’s best interest for the Empire to succeed.  Once we have accomplished that, I will disavow super weapons.   But not before.  This peace is fragile.  My rule is fragile, too,” he admits uncomfortably, feeling sheepish.  

 

He moves across the room to replaces their weapons.   “Did you feel the destruction of Hosnia in the Force?” he asks.

 

She frowns at the memory.  “I’m not sure actually.   I was panicking then.  I ran into the woods after I had the vision with the saber.  And Finn was leaving me and you were invading, and BB8 and I were on the run—”

 

“It was like a wave of Darkness crashing over my mind,” Kylo remembers aloud in a quiet voice.  “Like thousands—billions—of voices cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.  It was terrible.  Destruction on that scale was an efficient way to conquer the galaxy, but it diminished our cause.”  He looks away as he remembers long ago.  “I’m the unofficial crown prince of Alderaan.  I watched my mother still grieving her doomed world years after its destruction. Rey, I know better than anyone what the loss of Hosnia meant.”

 

“But you didn’t stop it.”

 

The reproof in her tone rankles.  Kylo responds sharply.  “On the Dark Side, you do what you are told until you are the Master and you get to make the rules.”

 

She looks annoyed now. “There is still so much Light in you.  I see it all the time.  But you don’t listen to it.  You won’t heed the call.”  She looks frustrated.  “Why, Kylo?  Why?”

 

“When I can, I do,” he shrugs.   He’s learned to be pragmatic about these things.  He gives in to the Light now and then to keep the temptation from building too much.  For the Force defaults to balance in individuals just as it does in the universe at large.  But those little forays into the Light are a far cry from the redemption narrative Rey has in mind.  She doesn’t understand that it is a fool’s errand to ask a Chosen One to repent.  No Skywalker—not even his righteous mother—has managed to live without conflict.  Leia Organa had plenty of anger and Dark tendencies that she, like his uncle, tried to repress.  But seeing Rey’s very real distress, Kylo relents.  “Maybe in the future if things improve, I can listen to the Light more.  But until then, the galaxy has you.”

 

Rey looks unconvinced.  She’s still so naive about power.  She wants everyone to be the hero with clean hands and a pure heart.  But the real world doesn’t work like that.  It’s full of compromises and work arounds.  Her idealism speaks to her inexperience as much as it does to her Light.  But Kylo loves it all the same.  Some part of him longs for the very same idealism he once had but lost.  The night he woke to his uncle trying to kill him had pretty must disillusioned him forever about heroes.  Everyone has feet of clay, he learned, even the legendary Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.

 

“What does it matter if I’m making speeches no one listens to?” Rey grumbles.  “I’m just a token.”

 

“You matter,” he assures her.  “Be the lone voice that is the conscience of my Empire.  Over time, you will prime things for change.”

 

Kylo now decides to quit while he’s ahead with Rey.   They’re talking Force and she swung a sword.  That’s enough for tonight.  Kylo decides he’ll invite her to see Vader’s mask some other time.  “I know you’re tired.  I’ll take you home.  I’ll be by early in the morning to help you gather your things.”

 

“Why?”  She’s not following.

 

“I’m helping you move.”

 

“Tomorrow??”

 

“Yes.  It’s Saturday.  It’s the perfect moving day.”

 

“But—“

 

“Time to pay up, Rey.”

 

“Oh, alright,” she grouses.  “But I want a rematch.”

 

“Good,” he nods.  He was hoping for that.  “Anytime you want me to beat you, I will,” he smirks.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Kylo shows up bright and early looking strangely Jedi in his full beard, longish hair, and baggy neutral casual clothes.  Somewhere, she knows, he has his sword secreted on his person.  But the overall look is the furthest thing from the commanding man in stately black feudal garb whose palace she visited last night.  This version of Kylo looks like he has bills to pay and a boss somewhere he doesn’t like.  Like he works hard for his credits and only wants to live a productive, fulfilling life.  With no ambitions to rule an empire and to balance the Force.  This is the ordinary version of the galaxy’s most extraordinary man.

 

Rey is slurping down caf and wiping sleep from her eyes when he bounds in.  It takes only a casual wave of his hand to bypass the lock on her apartment door, she notices.  That’s how powerful he is with the Force.  The gesture instantly reminds her of the blue lightning she saw Kylo shoot from his fingertips last night.  These small demonstrations of his abilities have her reconsidering his offer to teach her. 

 

But that’s a topic for another day.  Today, she is moving, like it or not.  Honestly, Rey has no attachment to her grungy Lower Level apartment.  Her resistance to Kylo’s offer to live in his apartment has more to do with the fact that it’s Kylo’s apartment than anything else.   She’s still very wary of drifting closer and closer into Kylo’s control.   As it stands, she already feels a bit trapped.  Her job is his lifetime appointment and he essentially pays her bills.  Now, he will own and control where she lives as well. 

 

He’s not doing this purely for altruistic goals, she knows.  Kylo is going to want something in return.  And as the weeks go by, the list of things he wants from her keeps getting longer.  He wants to teach her so she can help him balance the Force, whatever that means.  He wants her to be his regime’s token opposition as a public scold to the Supreme Leader.  He wants her for a friend to hang out with during off-hours.  He calls her his girlfriend to others and tries to kiss her.  Ally, operative, confidante, friend, lover . . . it’s a tall order.   It has Rey very nervous.  Because she keeps creeping closer and closer to giving him everything he wants.   Where does she draw the line?   And can she draw a line?  It’s concerning.

 

“Any chance you will let me weasel out of this move?” she yawns.  It’s a serious question.

 

He responds, “No.  So, don’t try.”

 

“Oh, alright,” Rey grumbles.  “Let’s do this then.”

 

“Go get your stuff together,” Kylo suggests while he starts carrying out her cases of bottled water.   Even though Kylo hefts an impressive three cases each time, he’ll be making several trips. And after he moves the water, there are her stashes of protein bars and nutrition drinks to move.  

 

It takes Rey very little time to amass the rest of her belongings.  She stuffs her growing wardrobe in two trash bags.  Her toiletries and a few personal and household items fit in another bag.  That leaves just her work bag and her reconditioned grooming droid.   Grabbing a load, she follows Kylo out to his borrowed palace speeder to unceremoniously dump her bags on top.

 

“Trash bags?” he chuckles at her makeshift luggage.  “Classy.”

 

Rey shrugs.  “Hey, it works.”  She’s a pragmatic sort of girl.  And she wasn’t planning this move.  Two more trips, and Rey is done while Kylo is still toting out her survival stash.

 

“That’s it?   That’s all you got?” He’s surprised by her meager belongings. But truthfully, she hadn’t owned much more than this back on Dantooine.  And compared to Jakku, Rey now lives like a queen.  Everything is relative, she has learned.  Only here on affluent Coruscant would her current standard of living seem so low. 

 

She shrugs it off. “I spend my credits on different things than other people.”

 

He laughs and gestures to the piles of food and water.  “I can see that.”

 

Rey bristles.  She’s sensitive about her hoarding.  She’s well aware that normal people find it odd, but they can’t relate.  “You ever starve, Kylo?” she challenges. 

 

“No.”

 

“If you had, you would understand,” she informs him curtly. 

 

He takes it in stride.  “Yeah, I can see that.  Ready?”

 

“I guess.”

 

He hops in.  She hops in.  Then, he sets course for the Upper Levels. When they arrive at the fancy apartment, it’s clear that Kylo has been expecting her to move in.  The empty rooms are now fully furnished.  The apartment is a showplace of wall to wall luxury, like some celebrity home depicted in a holonet magazine.  It’s gorgeous and gracious and way too nice for her. 

 

Rey is suddenly very uncomfortable and self-conscious.  She blinks as she stands there holding two trash bags of clothes.  “Wow.”  She wasn’t expecting this.  She expected to be camping out on the floor for a bit until she bought a mattress.

 

“Like it?”  Kylo looks anxious that she approve. “I had it furnished.  There wasn’t even a bed in here.  It wasn’t really ready to use.”

 

“It’s . . . it’s amazing.”  Rey gulps.  “And so fancy.”

 

He flashes a rare true smile as he encourages her.  “You’re a fancy Senator now, remember?  You belong here.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” she nods doubtfully.

 

Rey hangs up her wardrobe in the closet and plugs her grooming droid in to recharge in the bathroom.  Next, she dumps her work satchel on the kitchen table.  Then, she goes to help Kylo unload her supply stash.  This time, he’s not carrying the water himself.  He’s using the Force.

 

Rey watches, amused.  “Like lifting rocks?”

 

He nods.  “Size matters not.  You can lift anything with the Force if you concentrate hard enough.  Snoke made me lift TIE fighters in the _Supremacy_ hangar bay once.  This is much easier.  Give it a try,” he suggests. 

 

She does.  And that’s how together they unload the speeder and pile her survival stash in the small pantry and two closets. 

 

Their work done, Rey starts wandering through the apartment to take it all in.  It seems so much larger now that it is furnished.  She can really see how expansive and rambling the rooms are.  Everything is so tastefully chosen and artfully arranged.  The effect is very sophisticated and expensive.  But also very old school formal.  All in all, this space casts a distinct spell.  It’s an odd nostalgia for a past that isn’t hers.  That makes Rey feel like an interloper. 

 

“So whose apartment was this?” she asks Kylo who is following her.  “Your mother’s?”  He said this apartment was in the family.  Is Kylo turning her into a new version of Leia Organa?  Because that sort of fits, but it’s weird.  Very weird.

 

“My grandmother lived here.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey hadn’t anticipated that answer.  “So . . . this belonged to Darth Vader’s baby mama?”

 

He looks offended at her tone.  “My grandparents were married in secret.  It wasn’t an affair.  It was a years long marriage until her death.  Not some casual relationship.”

 

Oh. Rey reddens and regrets her flippant words.   “Who was she?”   If Rey knew anything about Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa’s mother, she has long since forgotten.  That information was all overshadowed by the shockingly ironic fact that Darth Vader was the estranged father to the Rebellion’s greatest heroes.

 

“Her name was Padme Amidala,” Kylo responds as they keep exploring the space.  “She was the child queen of Naboo when she met Anakin Skywalker.   She was later a junior Senator during the Clone Wars.”

 

“Naboo?  Never heard of it.  Where’s that?”

 

“It’s a minor system in the Mid Rim.  It’s mostly famous for being Emperor Palpatine’s homeworld.  He was the senior Senator from Naboo.”

 

Huh.  Rey raises an eyebrow. “Was that a coincidence?  Palpatine’s homeworld is where Darth Vader’s wife comes from?”

 

Kylo shakes his head.  “I don’t know.   There is a lot about my grandparents—especially my grandmother—that I don’t know.”  He looks to her with empathy. “You’re not the only one with gaps in your family’s past.”

 

“A secret marriage between a Jedi and a Senator,” Rey remarks as they enter what must have been the Vaders’ bedroom.   Rey stands there a moment in silence.  If these walls could talk, what secrets would they betray?  “They lived a lie,” she surmises thoughtfully. 

 

At her side, Kylo nods. “They had no choice.  Jedi were forbidden marriage.  For people in their position to fall in love  . . . well, no one would have understood. They would have been roundly condemned for their foolishness.   But I think it was romantic.  They loved each other against all odds and at least for a time it worked.”

 

“How did they ever pull it off?” Rey wonders aloud. 

 

“I don’t know.   It must have been hard.   But apparently, it was worth the risk.”

 

Rey is almost afraid to ask, but she does so anyway.  “How did your grandmother die?”  Something tells Rey she needs to know this story.

 

Kylo frowns.  “Officially, she died in childbirth with her unborn children.   It was a huge scandal at the time.  The public reports say she had been trying to hide her pregnancy and so when she went into early labor she didn’t immediately go for medical help.  That’s why she died.  Had she received prompt

treatment, she would have been fine.”

 

“Yeah.  No one dies in childbirth in the Core,” Rey observes. “Was it a scandal to be an unwed mother back then?”   Single motherhood happens all the time on Jakku.  It’s more the rule than the exception.

 

“It was a scandal if you were a prominent Senator from the very formal, very proper world of Naboo,” Kylo answers.   “My grandmother was a minor Senator for years, but most of the obituaries and published reports that remain paint her as a tragic martyr for love.  Her untimely death completely overshadowed her accomplishments.  There was a lot of speculation that her secret lover was a married man.   No one ever publicly connected her to the Jedi General Anakin Skywalker.”

 

“So what really happened to her?” Rey wants to know.

 

“That depends on who you ask.  Kenobi told my uncle that Vader choked his wife until she collapsed unconscious.  It sent her into early labor.   In the end, the children survived but my grandmother died from her injuries.  Kenobi told Luke that my grandmother was devastated by what happened.  She gave up fighting to live and died shortly after she gave birth.”

 

Rey makes a face at this grim tale.  Like so much else in his clan’s history, it strikes her as terribly sad.  And so avoidable. “So you’re saying that Vader essentially killed his wife?”

 

Kylo looks noncommittal.  “That’s the Jedi version.  But they had an agenda.  The Jedi hid my mother and uncle from Vader and raised them to hate him.  Through the Rebellion, they became an instrument of the Jedi’s revenge.  Master Yoda and Kenobi even sent my uncle to confront Vader without telling Luke he was fighting his father.  They saw no value in close relationships or blood ties.   Vader was a Sith Lord and he was the enemy.  End of story as far as the Jedi were concerned.”

 

“Wow.”’ Rey recoils from this cold assessment.

 

Kylo continues now.  “Snoke thought Palpatine killed my grandmother. His version has Darth Sidious leeching my grandmother’s life force to sustain Vader while he recovered from his injuries.  But I don’t believe that.  I can’t imagine that a Sith could kill my grandmother in the Force right under the noses of two Jedi Masters.  That makes no sense.  And why drain the Force from my grandmother and not some other random person?”

 

“So what do you think happened?” Rey persists. 

 

“I don’t know.  But I don’t think Vader killed his wife.  Rey, he kept a lot of her stuff around his castle.  Her dresses are hanging in the closet still.  Her ship is parked at the landing pad.   It was almost like my grandfather was expecting her to come back.   If Vader wanted to be rid of his wife, why would he keep all her belongings around to remind him of her?”

 

“I don’t know . . . maybe he felt guilty about throwing them away?” Rey suggests. 

 

Kylo shoots that theory down.  “Vader was a Sith Lord—they aren’t known for their regrets.  And he affirmatively moved her stuff there.  The castle was built years after her death.  It was placed there intentionally.”

 

“I guess he missed her.  Maybe having her stuff around reminded him of their life together?” Then, understanding dawns.   “So . . . she must have been the person Vader was trying to resurrect, right?”

 

“No.”  Kylo flatly disagrees.  “Vader was communing with the spirits of long dead Sith Lords using relics.  Those Force experiments were to learn new powers in the Force.”

 

“Are you sure?” Rey challenges.  “Maybe Vader wanted his dead wife back.  Maybe he prized family over power.”

 

Again, Kylo shoots her suggestion down.  “Vader was a Sith.  Power was his one and only goal.”

 

“And yet, when he had the chance to choose power over family on the Death Star, he chose family,” Rey points out.

 

And once again, Kylo flatly disagrees.  “No.  Vader chose power.  My uncle told a nice morality tale about his father repenting on his deathbed and returning to the Light.  But that’s not what really happened.  Vader killed his Master.  That’s a classic Sith move.  It just happened to save his son.  Keep in mind that Vader had been angling to supplant Darth Sidious and rule with Luke for years leading up to that day.”

 

“Vader was conflicted,” Kylo explains, “like all the Skywalkers.  Even if he did veer into the Light, he would never have remained there permanently.  He couldn’t.  He would have been tempted back into Darkness.  That is the curse of my family,” Kylo laments, looking terribly frustrated.  “We are torn apart by our very nature.”

 

Kylo speaks sternly now.  “Luke had Dark tendencies he tried to suppress.  His worst fear was that one of us would become Vader all over again.  It’s what led my uncle to try to murder me in my sleep.  That was Luke’s own Darkness rising.   Consider how he ended up, Rey.  Luke cut himself off from the Force rather than face his own inherent conflict.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist Darkness entirely.”

 

She must look unconvinced because Kylo demands, “Did my mother ever tell you why she didn’t train as a Jedi?”

 

Yes.  Rey nods.  “She said she wanted to have a family.”

 

“That’s only part of the answer.  Rey, she was too angry.  My mother had a lot of anger that she and Luke worried would turn her Dark over time.  Her solution was to never develop her talents.  It was another version of my uncle’s tactic—my mother essentially ignored the Force except when she needed it most.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”  That’s a very different explanation from what Leia Organa had given Rey.

 

Kylo looks so dispirited now as he complains, “We are the Chosen Ones.  The Skywalkers are born to balance the Force.  We exist in the middle, tempted to both sides time and again.”

 

“Why?” Rey is struggling to understand.  Unlike Kylo, she wasn’t raised on Jedi lore.

 

He attempts to explain the original sin of his clan.  They are the first family of the Force, and yet they are so inherently flawed.  Unable to be good Jedi and yet too compassionate to be proper Sith.  They vacillate from one extreme to another in fits and starts that shape history and confound their allies and enemies alike.

 

“My grandfather was conceived by the Force in his mother’s womb.  Our bloodline was begotten, not made, in the Force. That’s why we reflect the totality of the Force itself—both the Light and Dark sides.  Rey, I will never be the pure Light Side hero you want me to be.  I simply can’t.”  For a moment, Kylo’s long face is bleak.  This is the lost boy expression that drew Rey to him in the first place.  She had thought to soothe his hurts with the Light.  What an oversimplification that had been in hindsight. 

 

Kylo shoots her a bitter look.  “Luke wasn’t the hero you thought he was either.  The legend of Luke Skywalker is a lie.  My uncle was full of paranoia and self-loathing.  It drove him to mistakes and to exile.”

 

“I know that now.” The man she found on Ahch-To was a deeply disillusioned, angry man.   Not Dark, not Light.  Just miserable with a self-professed death wish.  The Skywalkers do not exactly match their public personas, Rey now knows.  It’s not that they present a false front, but that the family dynamics combined with the Force dynamics make things very complicated.  The truth of each Skywalker depends very much on your agenda, she now understands.  Kylo Ren is far more than he appears at first glance.  So was Luke Skywalker.  Leia Organa too, she suspects. 

 

“So what is this apartment really about?” Rey asks slowly as she brings the conversation full circle back to their surroundings.   She raises fearful eyes to Kylo.  “Are you and I supposed to be some modern version of your grandparents?” Rey is feeling increasingly uncomfortable about this relocation.  The more she learns of Kylo’s family history, the more suspicious she is that this move is about far more than convenience and safety.  Because for a man who says he wants to let the past die, Kylo sure seems hellbent on recreating it.  And if he’s the new Vader, does that make her the new Senator Amidala?  

 

“I don’t want us to be my grandparents,” Kylo says emphatically.  “I want us to end up much better than they did.”

 

His words are meant to reassure her, but he’s still speaking about them as if they are a couple.  Troubled Rey looks away.  Loving Kylo Ren seems like the worst decision a woman could make.  Like she’d be lucky if she ended up with as good a fate as poor Mrs. Vader did.  But Rey can see how it might be tempting.  Because when Kylo drops his antagonism, he can be downright compelling.  Plus, Rey has thought about that almost-kiss on his shuttle more times than she cares to count.

 

She’s starting to understand Kylo better now.  How he chafes at the situation he finds himself in.  Maybe Luke Skywalker could be content to walk away from it all, but not Kylo Ren.  He’s matched his grandfather’s ignominy as the most hated man in the galaxy and yet still he soldiers on.  Rey is realizing just what a strong sense of responsibility Kylo has.   It’s appealing.  Her own shifty parents walked away from her, so Rey finds dependability to be a very attractive character trait.  It’s too bad it comes along with all the other less desirable facets of Kylo Ren. 

 

“Come on,” Kylo changes the topic abruptly.  “We should go buy you a speeder.”

 

Rey brushes off this suggestion.  “I take the transport.”

 

“There’s no transport stop nearby.   This is the Upper Level.  Residents here don’t want the public transport to be convenient.  They want to keep the tourists and the riffraff out.”  Kylo fixes Rey with a serious look. “Now that you’re living up here, you need a speeder.  It’s a long walk to the Senate from here.”

 

“Alright, we can look, I suppose,” Rey relents.  “I’ll get my purse.”

 

And that’s how half an hour later Rey finds herself speeder shopping with Kylo Ren.  He is positively happy as together they stride into the largest speeder showroom on Coruscant.  Kylo likes these outings, Rey sees.  Is it because he’s playing a joke on everyone?   Does he fancy himself a prince with the common touch?  Or is this an escapist fantasy?  Rey can’t tell.  But she can tell that Kylo relishes dressing up in his workaday everyman guise to wander around his capital world incognito.  He’s so normal when he’s like this.  So likeable.

 

The salesman they are assigned to looks them over.  Rey instantly feels sized up.  It makes her fidget a little.  Does she not look like she can afford to shop here?   Because she can.  Well, so long as she can pay in installments.   Rey looks down at her casual clothes she donned for moving.  Maybe she should have cleaned up a bit to look more prosperous.  No one would mistake her for a Senator now.  Glancing over at her side, Rey decides Kylo doesn’t look any better.

 

“What brings you in today?” the salesman asks after he greets Rey and ‘Ben’ and shakes their hands.  It’s clear he thinks they are a couple since they have come in together.  But Rey doesn’t correct him.

 

“We need a speeder,” Kylo answers.  “Something she can drive around town and to work.” 

 

“New or pre-owned?”

 

“Used,” Rey answers immediately.  As general rule, she doesn’t do new.

 

Kylo shoots her a quelling look and literally commands the salesman in the voice of Supreme Leader Ren.  “New.”

 

After that, the guy addresses all questions to Kylo.  It’s irksome, especially given Rey probably knows more about speeders than these two men combined.  And she’s the one buying.  But that doesn’t seem to matter.  “Got anything in mind?” the salesman asks Kylo.   “What do you like in a transport?”

 

“Fast,” Rey speaks up.

 

“Safe,” Kylo answers.

 

“Okay. What else?”

 

“Fast,” Rey repeats peevishly.  Is anyone listening to her?  It doesn’t feel like it.

 

“Dependable,” Kylo suggests.  And who knew the speeder stealing, joyriding Supreme Leader would be so conservative? 

 

“I think we can achieve both those things,” the salesman decides.  He directs them to the back of the showroom to look at a row of economy models. “We have quite a few two-seaters at entry level prices.  Easy to park with great fuel economy.  Some of them are pretty zippy, too,” he says with a nod towards Rey.  “Every speeder we sell comes with a five year, fifty-thousand-mile limited warranty,” he informs them as he begins his standard sales pitch.  Rey tunes him out when the guy starts showing them the cup holders and the dataport options.  She doesn’t care about the sound system.  Being a mechanic, she mostly wants to know about the engine.  She’s unimpressed as she looks over the stats on the sticker.   These speeders are fine for basic transportation, but that’s about it. 

 

“Show us something a little nicer,” Kylo suggests, correctly reading her reaction.

 

“Well, if you’re buying with the future in mind, we have some nice family models. A young couple like you might need that soon.”   The salesman directs them over to the full-size speeders, pointing out the roomy cockpits.  “You can fit three carseats across in the back seat of this model. You don’t see that a lot these days.”

 

Behind her, Kylo snorts. 

 

Rey balks.  “Three kids?  I don’t need that.”

 

“Twins run in the family,” Kylo smirks.   He’s clearly trying hard not to laugh.  He leans over to drawl into her ear.  “Careful, or you might end up with four.”

 

Rey shoots him a cold look.  “In your dreams.” She’s not about to mommy his little Skywalkers.  Some other poor woman can do that.

 

Kylo turns to the salesman who looks taken aback by the undercurrents he does not understand.  “She’s a career girl,” Kylo explains as he smirks some more. 

 

“This is all wrong,” Rey dismisses the family speeder suggestion.  “I’m not flying some minivan mom-mobile.  I’m way too young for that.”

 

“It’s too soon,” Kylo tells the sales guy man-to-man.  “She hasn’t agreed to marry me yet.”  And now, Rey is really fuming.  She hates to be laughed at.

 

“Alright.  How about a sports model?”  The salesman takes the strong hint to move on.  “Nothing says ‘no kids’ like a sports model.  Take a look at this,” he leads them to yet another option. “It’s fast,” he assures Rey before he makes the ridiculous claim, “You could practically pod race in this one.”

 

“It looks pretty small,” Kylo observes with a frown.  “It might not do well in a wreck.”

 

“I’m not going to wreck it,” indignant Rey objects.  She’s offended.  “I’m a great pilot!”  But no one listens.

 

“Yes,” their salesman agrees with Kylo. “You’re a bit tall for that one,” he judges. “You’ll get more cabin space and overall more room in one of our sport utility models.  Those are more comfortable for our taller clientele.  They are all built on a truck chassis.  Come, take a look.”

 

Whatever.  Rey dutifully follows the men.   She tromps over to eye a giant behemoth speeder unenthusiastically.  It looks like it has the turning radius of a star destroyer.  “That could fit a wookiee,” she judges sourly.  “Maybe two wookiees.”

 

“What do you think?” Kylo turns to her.  His expression is straight but his eyes and tone are mocking her.  “This will haul a lot of water,” he teases.  “And it will fit those twins, too.”

 

If looks could kill, Supreme Leader Ren would now be dead.  Rey shoots him a face that would freeze water on hot Jakku.  But Kylo pretends not to notice. 

 

The sales guy is oblivious.  He keeps trying to make a deal.  “These SUV models will take a beating.  They last forever.  And they’re much safer in a collision. Now, did you say this will this be cash or credit?”

 

“Cash,” Kylo answers immediately.

 

Rey replies simultaneously, “Credit.”

 

“Undecided, eh?   Well, we’ve got some very attractive financing options for well qualified buyers.  And there are rebate incentives on select models for the Empire Day sale.  How’s your credit?”

 

“Uh . . .”  Terrible.  Rey’s credit rating is terrible.  She had never used real credits on Jakku.  So when she started a new life after the war on Dantooine, she made a few financial missteps initially.  Bartering is very different from a credit-based economy.  There’s a lot more wiggle room when you make a deal for each transaction. 

 

“Is it student loans?” the sales guy hazards a guess based on her youth.  “Because we have a special financing program for new graduates just starting off.”

 

The only school Rey graduated from is the school of hard knocks.  She shakes her head.  “I won’t qualify.”

 

“Are either of you a veteran by chance?” the salesman now asks.  He clearly sees his sale slipping away and he’s trying to save it.  “We have some easy payment plans for newly discharged stormtroopers.  There’s a similar program for junior officers, too.”

 

Kylo is really smirking now.  “Rey here has seen some military service,” he offers up.  “But she wasn’t discharged, she was pardoned.”

 

The sales guy isn’t following.  “Well, all we need is the official discharge letter from the commanding officer.  So long as it looks good, I’m sure my boss will approve it.”

 

“I was on the losing side,” Rey clears things up.  “My commanding officer is dead.”

 

“His name was Luke Skywalker,” Kylo adds helpfully just to stir the pot.  He’s enjoying himself way too much, Rey decides.  He looks downright impish now.

 

“Wow . . . were you Republic or Resistance?” the salesman asks, looking luridly fascinated. Then he looks around like he suspects the First Order might storm in to arrest him at any moment.  It’s too bad he doesn’t know that his customer is Kylo Ren himself, Rey thinks.

 

“Well?” the man prompts her in a hushed voice.  “Were you really a rebel?”

 

“Does it matter?” Rey sighs. 

 

“We’ll be paying cash,” Kylo intervenes to end the discussion. 

 

“But Ben—“

 

“I’m buying,” he insists.  And anticipating her refusal, Kylo counters, “The speeder will be mine but you are using it.  Like the apartment.”   And before she can object, Kylo orders in his best Supreme Leader tone of command, “Pick something out.  Whatever you want.”

 

“But Ben—”

 

“Do it.”

 

The salesman visibly perks up at this exchange.  He leads them quickly over to the fleet of luxury sedan speeders parked up front.  “Have a look at these.”

 

“This one is slick,” Kylo observes as he hones in on a sleek and shiny black model with subtle red racing stripes. “I’d fly this,” he grants it the ultimate compliment.

 

Rey paces the perimeter of the sedan.  It’s very pretty.  “Yeah, it’s very you,” she decides. This is like the speeder version of Kylo’s black command shuttle she rode back from Jakku. 

 

The salesman starts in on his pitch.  “The guys in the back customized that paint job and the repulso lift rims.  But the real appeal here is the engine.  Don’t let the sedan exterior fool you.  This thing really moves.  Take a look.”

 

Rey is impressed by the stats. “Wow.  I could outrun the cops in this.  Look,” she points to Kylo.

 

“You could outrun one of the Palace speeders in this,” Kylo corrects her as he squints to read the details.   “Zero to sixty instantaneously.   That’s some pickup.”   He looks to her and raises his eyebrows suggestively.   “You said you wanted fast.”

 

Rey starts seriously considering the slick speeder.  Poking around under the hood first before she surveys the cabin.  “Dark red leather interior.  That’s retro,” she grins.

 

“You can get it in the regular paint job and whatever interior color you like,” the salesman speaks up quickly.  “But there’s a two week wait. These high-end models are manufactured on Corellia.  If we place an order today, you can take delivery in as soon as two weeks.”

 

“I need something now,” Rey sighs.  “And yikes,” she gets a good look at the sticker price.  “They’re not giving this away.”

 

“Is that in your budget?” the salesman looks to Kylo.

 

“No, it’s not,” Rey frowns. 

 

“Sure, it is.  We’ll take it,” Kylo decrees.  “Rey, go test drive it to be sure you like it.  See how it handles.”

 

“But Ky—Ben!”

 

“What??  I like it.  You’re not the only one who likes a fast ship,” he informs her.

 

“But it’s too much!” Rey objects.  The speeder is extremely expensive.  It’s at least four times the price she was hoping to spend.  Truly, it’s a ridiculous amount to spend for a speeder.  “It’s too much.”

 

“No, it’s not.  It matches the apartment.  And this way, your pal Army won’t have to take you home again,” Kylo reasons.  “That’s worth paying for.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Rey is glumly slumped behind her desk when her assistant arrives with a small package. "This came earlier from the Palace by messenger. Something about a speeder? I didn't open it. It looked personal."

"Thanks," Rey replies absently. She's still preoccupied with obsessing over her speech to introduce her new legislation to ban super weapons.

"The speech was good. Really good," the young woman is sincere. She's not sucking up. "I'm First Order through and through, but I had family on Hosnia. They didn't deserve to die. They had nothing to do with the Republic."

Rey nods. "There were a lot of innocents killed that day."

"And so many dead on Starkiller Base, too," her assistant loyally laments the heroic First Order dead.

"It was a horrible day," Rey replies, mostly remembering Han Solo. Han was one of billions who died when the long simmering cold war suddenly became hot. But he is always who Rey remembers when she thinks of Starkiller Base. Han was brave to confront his long-estranged son, but he died for it.

"That was a good speech," her assistant cheerleads some more. "Don't let those boos get you down."

It's too late for that. This fighting the good fight thing is harder than it looks, Rey has learned. She thought she was used to scorn from her experiences on Jakku, but apparently not. Even with her unusually thick skin, pointed personal criticism gets through.

"Anything else for today before I go?"

"No. Thank you," Rey replies. She smiles her dismissal. "See you tomorrow."

As her assistant leaves, Rey tears open the envelope from the Palace. It's the new license plates for her speeder. Kylo must have had his people pull strings to expedite this with the local authorities. Rey turns the plates over and reads 'JEDIGRL.' She laughs out loud. It feels good. There hasn't been much to laugh about today.

"You'll make the newsfeed highlight reels tonight," Army announces as he breezes in without a knock. The Chancellor makes himself at home in her office these days. "Idealistic young regime critic makes impassioned plea for a ban on Death Stars," he summarizes. "I thought it went great until you rushed the end," he critiques. "You need to learn how to handle the hecklers because you're going to continue to get them. Don't let them put you off your stride. Your voice got shrill and you started talking too fast. You blew the big finish. No one even heard my great closing line about Alderaan," he complains.

"There were a lot of hecklers," Rey grumbles.

"Did you expect any less?"

"No, I guess not," she grumbles some more.

"What's that?" Army picks up one of the license plates. "Jedi Girl?" he sniffs. "That's nothing to brag about. Why would you ever put that on a license plate?"

"It wasn't my idea."

"Well, someone at the Department of Motor Vehicles knows you well. I guess it could be worse," he reasons. "It could be RBLGRL."

"It's for my new speeder," Rey explains.

"And here I was about to offer you a ride home. Now, you can fly me home." Hux considers the license plate again. "I don't think that particular moniker would be my first choice. How about TR8TOR?"

Rey shoots him a look. "Very funny."

"4SBITCH? Or even better, RBLSCUM."

"Too many letters," she corrects him. "You only get six."

"STRKLR?" Hux asks coyly. He's having fun.

Rey answers testily. She's not in the mood for this. "Haven't I told you enough with the Starkiller jokes?"

"You're right. And today's a bad day for that. Plus, you didn't actually kill the Starkiller. Some other rebel did. So, that one is misleading. Maybe SNOKKLR instead?" he suggests.

"Too many letters."

"I have it! H8TREN."

"I don't hate him," Rey grouses. She likes him against her better judgement just like she likes Army Hux. What is it with her and these First Order men?

"Of course, you hate him," Hux counters. "But people like you don't admit to hate. You say annoying things like 'I'll pray for you' instead of 'I hate you' but it's the same sentiment." He thinks another moment. "How about HUX4EVA? That's a good one."

Rey chuckles despite herself. "It's too many letters. And wrong, so wrong," she objects.

"But you like it anyway," Army accuses. "Admit it."

"I admit nothing," Rey declares.

"How is it that you are impervious to my charm?" the Chancellor demands, looking amused. "Is something wrong with you? Because you clearly did not get the memo."

"What charm?" Rey asks cheekily as she starts gathering up her things to leave. She knows darn well that Armitage Hux's high opinion of himself is matched only by others' high opinion of him. Especially women. Women regularly throw themselves at the young very single Chancellor, a fact that he seems to take for granted. He eats up all the fawning attention like he relishes the pomp and circumstance of his official position. The man thoroughly enjoys being the Senate Chancellor.

"Well, where is this new speeder? And is it as nice as your apartment? Because if you bought some nasty used model that smells like fast food, I refuse to ride in it."

"Who offered you a ride?" Rey raises an eyebrow coolly.

"You were about to."

"Er . . . right. Well, go get your stuff and let's go. I'm done here." Rey is more than happy to declare this day over. "I'm parked out back on the Senatorial Landing Platform."

"I'm surprised they let you park there, Jedi Girl."

"They almost didn't," Rey admits. "I had to show my official ID for them to believe me."

"How scratch and dent is this ride?" Hux worries aloud.

"You're going to take back those words when you see it," Rey promises.

And, sure enough, the flashy luxury speeder makes an impression. "Impressive. Most impressive," Army is a bit incredulous. "I wasn't expecting this. This is nice. Too nice for you. Were you living in that slum so you could save up to afford this?"

"Actually, I moved this weekend," Rey admits. "That's why I needed a speeder. I'm not near a transport stop now."

"Ah, so you listened to me after all." Hux looks smug. "I knew you were not entirely impervious to my charm. Well, drive me home," he commands as he seats himself on the passenger side. "My security can follow." He waves away his usual trio of bodyguards and consigns them to fly escort in his official armored speeder.

Rey slides in behind the controls and lobs her work satchel into the back seat. "Are you sure they can keep up? This thing is pretty fast," she boasts.

"Let's see. Take off," Hux orders like he's on the bridge of a star destroyer commencing an attack. "Set course due west. Full speed ahead, Jedi Girl."

Rey complies and they liftoff to exit the Senate complex. "How's the Empire Day speech coming?" Rey inquires once they are aloft.

Army makes a face. "It still hasn't gelled yet. There's no big news for this year. The State of the Empire is status quo. Bo-ring," he complains. "We're into the implementation phase of the reforms, and that's the dull part between the big rollout and the victory lap. Ren will get all the showmanship this year when he beheads all those Rim drug dealers," Army gripes. "Everyone will be asleep during my speech wanting me to get it over with quickly so the blood sport can begin. Half the viewers will put me on mute, mark my words."

"I hate Empire Day," Rey sighs. The First Order's annual pageant of death turns her off. Each year, the Supreme Leader convenes his bureaucrats, military leaders, and Senators plus tens of thousands of lucky citizens in the giant Coruscant pod racing arena for a pep rally. It starts with a slick video of accomplishments, then the Chancellor gives his State of the Empire speech, and finally Kylo Ren pulls out his sword for the big finish. A cadre of condemned prisoners are presented to him for mercy. Some receive clemency, but others get put to the sword.

Officially, it is crime and punishment in real time broadcast live on the holonet courtesy of the law and order loving First Order. But Rey considers it to be a bloody spectacle designed to pander to people's worst impulses. And not coincidentally, it reaffirms Kylo Ren's image as the strongman leader who will do whatever it takes to hold the rambling galaxy together. Everyone gets to see the Supreme Leader do his own dirty work. Every year, a few random prisoners are pardoned in a show of magnanimity. But most die gruesomely. Rey hates it. It's like a day of Darkness as far as she's concerned. The military parade that follows the pep rally has all the hallmarks of an insecure despot, she thinks. And the showy fancy evening party at the Palace to commemorate the day is more grim than glitz in her assessment.

"Love it or hate it, you're front and center this year," Army warns her. "The Palace sent over the seating chart today. You're on the dais with the A-list attendees."

"Really?" This is not welcome news.

"Yes. Wear something that's good on camera. You're going to be on camera a lot. I can't imagine why. As a newbie Senator, you don't belong there," Army sniffs. "I suppose Ren is trying to look tolerant. And maybe give the viewers at home some eye candy. We don't have any women currently in the high command."

Whatever. "I'm not going to Empire Day." Rey refuses to take part in that annual ugly ritual.

Army is scandalized. "You have to go. It's a command performance. If you don't go this year, you risk being next year's star as one of the condemned. And don't think I'm kidding."

Rey scoffs. "Ren isn't going to behead me."

"Are you sure?" Army levels her a serious look. "He took out a general he was displeased with last year. No one saw that coming. Least of all the general."

"Yes, I'm sure," Rey digs in. "I don't want to go."

"Well, you need to go. All Senators go. It's part of the job. And you need to attend the party at the Palace afterwards. That's important too. You have to swear fealty to Leader Ren with the rest of us."

"I hate parties."

"Everyone hates the Palace party. It's stiff and formal and awkward. It's more protocol than even I can stand. And Ren is there glowering from behind his mask as the ultimate buzz kill. At least Leader Snoke liked a good time," Army recalls.

"You're not selling this well," Rey observes pointedly.

"I'm getting to the good part. The real party is the after-party. As soon as Ren leaves, everyone flees the Palace and the after-party starts. Now, that is a good time," Army attests. "Not as good as my birthday party, of course. But it's still decent."

"Where is it? And why have I never heard of it?" Rey asks.

"It's strictly need-to-know. And it's a media-free zone. Last year, we held it on a star destroyer in orbit over Coruscant."

"And this year?"

"It's at the Imperial War Museum." Army squints into their surroundings. "Hang a left up ahead. Right past the esplanade," he instructs.

"The Imperial War Museum," Rey repeats. "Is that the place with the giant Vader statue out front?"

"Yes. We're lighting him up with red lights for the night. Take another left up ahead at the light. I'm the third building on the right."

"You live right near me," Rey realizes.

"Well, there goes the neighborhood," Hux quips. "However did you find a place up here? There are bidding wars for apartments in this sector. I only scored mine after Ren executed the Resistance sympathizing hyperfuel magnate who owned it. I bought it for a song from the estate," Army brags. "I think the widow feared we would imprison her as a co-conspirator."

"Er . . . I'm a sublease," Rey improvises.

"Yeah? Don't let the coop board know that. You'll get evicted. Which building?"

"Over there," Rey points. "The one that looks like a wedding cake."

"Really? That's a prestigious address. That's old school rich right there." Hux's eyes narrow. He starts putting it all together. "New slick speeder. New uptown address. Got a sugar daddy I don't know about, Rey?"

"I'm offended by that remark," she retorts.

"Last week you were living in the ghetto. I'm not stupid." They are approaching their destination now. "You'll have to pull up in front," Hux instructs. "Some of us don't have our own private landing platforms." He turns to Rey as she halts the speeder. "Do I detect the hand of Ren in this? Because you didn't move up here on your own. Tell me the truth. Is our mysterious depraved Leader bankrolling you?"

"It's Ren's apartment," she admits. "This is his speeder, too. He wanted me to move just like you did," Rey explains defensively.

Hux frowns. His disapproval is severe. "What is it with you and Ren? And don't tell me to ask him. Who is he to you?"

That's a good question. Rey hesitates.

"You and Ren aren't together, are you?" Hux asks, looking and sounding horrified. "Like together together?"

"No!"

Army is visibly relieved. "I didn't think so. You're smarter than that. So . . . what are you and Ren? And don't pretend that you are friends because Ren doesn't have friends. Everyone hates him and always has."

Uh . . . Uh . . . What is Kylo to her? Rey can't decide, so she punts. "This is about the Force. We share the Force."

Army gives her a knowing look. "And now a speeder and an apartment too?"

"It's not like that—"

"If we skip my place and head to yours instead, would I happen to meet our Supreme Leader dropping by to borrow a cup of sugar?" Hux asks.

Er . . . well . . . maybe. Kylo didn't come around last night. So odds are good he'll make an appearance tonight, Rey thinks.

When she doesn't immediately answer, Hux gets very serious. "Be careful, Rey. He's unstable. Prone to violent tantrums and irrational decisions. He's a mess. You lead him on and cut him loose and he will get revenge. Trust me, I know. He's not the stalker type. I'm the stalker type. Ren's the serial killer type. He'll filet you with that laser sword of his."

That characterization seems a bit harsh but Rey dutifully nods.

"He's never been one for women. We all just assumed he was the monk type because the Jedi had him too long." Hux purses his lips and fixes her with a hard stare. "Are you sleeping with him?"

"No!"

"Is he trying to sleep with you?"

"No!" Well, not exactly. She wouldn't let Kylo kiss her. But he had tried.

"Then what is Ren getting in exchange for all his munificence?"

"The Force."

"That is a very unsatisfactory answer," Army informs her. "Well, now you definitely need to go to Empire Day," he decides. "Otherwise, you will get evicted by your Supreme Landlord."

"It's not just that it's Empire Day," Rey grumbles. "I hate events like that. I'm not good at parties, Army. It's so awkward to be there by myself," she admits miserably.

"Get your boyfriend Ren to escort you. Well . . ." Army reconsiders, "Actually, please don't."

"I told you—we're not together. And what's it to you if we are?" she demands.

"You're my protege. I have high hopes for you. You will disappoint me if you get your head turned by Ren. I expect much better of you," Army lectures sternly. "Rey, you and I agree on very little politically except we both concur that Ren has to go."

"This isn't about him personally," Rey frowns. "I just don't like his policies. I'm trying to change his mind, not depose him." She gave up on that Resistance stuff years ago. She's no longer a revolutionary fighting a fight she cannot win. "I hate parties," she grumbles again. Social settings like that bring up all her insecurities.

"Fine. Be my date for the Palace party," Army suggests. "The press will love it. They'll have a field day speculating and Ren can eat his eunuch Sith heart out about it."

"Oh, Ren won't care."

"Good. Then it's settled. Make sure you look good," Army specifies. "I only get photographed with beautiful women."

Rey rolls her eyes. "Duly noted, Chancellor."

"Neighbor," he corrects. "We're neighbors now." Hux exits the speeder and leans over to drawl out his sarcasm, "Tell Ren hello when you see him."

Not two minutes after Rey arrives at her new apartment, Kylo shows up. Has he been waiting on her? Rey looks up to see him striding in from the terrace where he has parked a Palace speeder. "I thought you might drop by," she nods hello.

"I liked your speech."

Rey flushes. "I flubbed the end."

"Those guys were being rude. They won't do that again," Kylo promises without elaborating. "How are you settling in?"

"Fine. I did a little exploring around the neighborhood yesterday and I went grocery shopping."

"More water?" he teases her with a smirk.

"Some food too."

"Good. What's for dinner?" he asks.

"Protein bars. I . . . uh . . . never got in the habit of eating much fresh food. On Jakku . . ."

"Yeah, okay," he cuts off her uncomfortable explanation. "You grab a bar to eat while I eat real food. Come, keep me company."

"Alright," Rey agrees as she purposely shoves Army's warnings out of her mind. They both hop in Kylo's speeder and head for the Palace.

Twenty minutes later, Rey is comfortably ensconced in Kylo's private office sitting sideways in the one armchair that doesn't have datafiles piled all over it. She's munching on her protein bar with her feet dangling over the side. Opposite her seated behind his cluttered desk, Kylo is devouring his newly delivered burger and fries. It's a casual, comfortable evening that betrays how far she and Kylo have come. The awkward intimacy of the Force bond began this unlikely relationship over two years ago. Now, she and Kylo are something approaching friends, Rey thinks, but with a strange mix of trust and misgivings due to all that has transpired.

"Army tells me I'm on the VIP dais for Empire Day," Rey broaches the topic that Hux felt so strongly about.

Kylo nods. "You have a front row seat."

"I don't want one," Rey does not mince words. "I hate Empire Day."

"Why?"

"Do I have to explain this? Public executions are not my thing."

"No, but mercy is," Kylo counters. "I usually pardon about half of the death row inmates I see on Empire Day. And every one of those prisoners got a jury trial before they ended up on that stage."

"Not that General last year," she points out.

"Yeah, well that guy had it coming. The point is that Empire Day is about mercy and compassion as much as it is about justice."

Rey raises an eyebrow. "It sure doesn't feel that way."

Kylo sits back as he informs her, "This year I'll be executing drug cartel kingpins mostly. They are violent men who prey on the addictions of others. Don't feel too sorry for them. They have lots of blood on their hands. Spice ruins lives, Rey."

"I know that. And I don't feel sorry for them," she grumbles as she wads up the wrapper of her protein bar and stuffs it in her pocket. "I just wish it weren't so lurid."

"The public spectacle serves a purpose."

"I know. But I still don't like it." Rey swings her feet over to stand. She paces the room pensively while he watches her in silence. "I saw a lot of spice smugglers on Jakku. Spice is an ugly business for sure. It's been tolerated for far too long. I'm glad that someone is finally cracking down . . . "

"But?" he prompts.

"But hyped up public executions before cheering mobs make me nervous."

"This is about deterrence. Like the super weapons. People will think twice about filling those dead men's shoes afterwards. That has real value. Because in the past when the Republic made attempts to clean up organized crime, all they did was create opportunities for other criminals to enlarge their scope of business. They busted one crime syndicate and another promptly took its place."

"I know . . ." she agrees reluctantly. "I just wish there were a better way." Rey turns now to stare out the panoramic window opposite his desk. It shows an incredible view of the Coruscant night. She contemplates it glumly.

"I want you there on the dais, Rey. It will give you credibility and visibility. Plus, you are on the public record as supporting our cleanup operations in the Rim."

She is noncommittal, so Kylo continues. "Dark and Light coexist. That is the nature of things. Governing the galaxy can't be all hearts and flowers and truth and mercy every day."

"I know. But I wish it were," she says softly, her back still turned to Kylo.

"If I could give you a world where everyone was good, I would. But I can't. Sometimes it takes Darkness to hold other Darkness at bay. I'm far from perfect," Kylo admits—the man is somewhat surprisingly self-aware—"but trust me there are others who are far worse options."

"I know," she sighs.

"Your friend Hux is one of them," Kylo remarks as he stands to his feet. Oblivious Rey is still lost in thought contemplating the Coruscant skyline when she feels Kylo's hand snake around her waist. It's an intimate gesture that catches her by surprise. Rey instinctively turns into Kylo and that's when he plants a soft kiss on her upturned lips.

This isn't like on the shuttle on the way back from Jakku. There isn't any lead up or chance to pull back. It all happens unexpectedly before Rey can think to stop it.

"Oh," is all she says. Did that actually happen? Yes, it did. And it happens again as she stands there flustered by her very first kiss. Kylo leans down to steal another. Slower this time, more lingering.

He pulls back and whispers, "Don't ever lose your idealism, Rey. Because that's an innocence you never get back."

She nods blankly, not really understanding. Rey blinks at Kylo, unsure how to feel about what just happened.

But the moment ends as soon as it began. "Come, there's something I want to show you," Kylo invites. Relieved that he isn't putting more moves on her, Rey goes along. She follows Kylo down the hall to what is unexpectedly his bedroom. That realization has her pulse racing nervously. But the bedroom doesn't seem to be their destination because Kylo keeps moving into an adjacent room.

It's kept locked with the Force, she notices. And that's the first indication that she is seeing something extremely special. When the door opens, it reveals Kylo Ren's most prized possession. Rey's eyes fall on the unmistakable relic displayed on a plinth.

"Oh." The word doesn't convey her reaction so much as her sudden intake of breath.

"Recognize it?"

"Yes." Rey turns amazed eyes to Kylo. "I forgot you said you had this. Where did you get it?"

"I dug it up on Endor years ago," he reveals. "Darth Vader died on the second Death Star but my uncle saved his body and built a funeral pyre for him on the Endor moon." Kylo shakes his head at the insensitivity of it all. "Only dogmatic Luke Skywalker would cremate a man in death who had been burned in life. But my uncle was tone deaf like that a lot. The Jedi tradition was to cremate their dead and so Luke burned his father a second time. The were no exceptions to the Jedi way for Master Skywalker," Kylo gripes bitterly.

Rey is fascinated by the slightly twisted, now grey-black mask. "Wow." Rey shoots Kylo a wary look. She's almost afraid to ask. "He's not—"

"No. He disappeared into the Force. Many of the most powerful Force-users lose their bodies upon death. They literally become one with the Force. It's where the old saying comes from."

"I think that's what happened to your mother."

"That wouldn't surprise me." Kylo turns back to his grandfather's mask. "He was the best star pilot in the galaxy and a cunning warrior. A Jedi hero and an infamous Sith Lord. I wish I knew him." Kylo half-whispers his words with a choked longing that speaks to the depths on his loneliness.

Rey can instantly relate. For she spent many long years yearning for her own dead family members. Wondering about them. Fantasizing about them. Creating stories to explain them.

Kylo looks so woebegone now, his long face slack and sad. "I have spent much of my life being torn apart between warring sides of the Force. Torn between the pull to Darkness and the call to the Light. Veering first one direction and then another. Vader was the same way. My uncle said that when he first met his father, he could sense the conflict within him. It was plain as day, apparently."

Rey nods. "I sense the same in you. Here. Now."

"Vader could have helped us. He would have ruled this Empire much better than I am. And he would have known how to balance the Force." Looking vulnerable, Kylo confides, "I go to him with problems. He sends me visions sometimes." Kylo's eyes find hers as he softly urges, "Touch it. See if he speaks to you."

Rey takes a step back and shakes her head. She has no connection to Lord Vader. Why should he speak to her? And, honestly, Rey has no desire to meet a Sith Lord. Meeting Snoke was enough.

"Go on," Kylo croons at her. "Touch it."

"But I'm nobody—"

"Not to me."

"I'm nobody to him," Rey yelps.

Kylo leans in close, his face and his voice so earnest. "Rey, you do not yet realize your importance. You are part of the future, whether you like it or not." She frowns and he presses again, "Touch it. Do it."

She does. And as she feared, this relic of Anakin Skywalker affects her just the same as her first touch of his old lightsaber on Takodano. For just as soon as her tentative fingers make contact, Rey's consciousness dissolves as the Force overtakes her mind. The vision rushes up in a jumble of fast impressions that are hard to comprehend.

" _Son of Darkness_." The voice is Snoke's gravelly baritone and it makes the hair on Rey's arms stand on end. But when the images start to appear, they are not of Kylo Ren. The Force reveals a different man, similarly tall and lanky, with a mane of unruly hair and a tendency to sneer. This man is a famed Jedi hero before he becomes a feared Sith. Rey sees him swinging a blue sword for truth and justice, giving his right arm and his innocence for the cause of the Republic. But in the end, after much disillusionment and loss, Anakin Skywalker switches sides. It is a cataclysmic event. See him marching with an army at his heels to burn a Jedi Temple to the ground. See him hunt down the guardians of peace and justice with a dogged determination. He will destroy completely his old ideology. But none are safe because this man also turns on his allies. He slaughters them on a volcanic world and declares the war over. Both sides have lost. There's a lesson here: this violent man is not to be trusted. He turns on friend and foe alike. In time, his Sith Master will learn that truth the hard way.

" _You were the Chosen One_!" Rey doesn't recognize the voice but she does recognize the horror and deep, deep disappointment. For she felt that way once herself in a ruined throne room.

The images now show a different man. He is a Jedi, like his father before him. This is Luke Skywalker, the new hope for the galaxy to emerge from Darkness. With that Skywalker hair, his father's Force, and his mother's good looks, he is dashing in his youth. He too swings a blue sword for truth and justice, giving his right hand for the cause of the Rebellion. For a time, he convinces himself he has found balance. But he's wrong. Everything he believes is wrong. And so, in the end, after much disillusionment and loss, he quits. He walks away from the fight and cuts himself off from the Force that he has grown to hate. Witness him attempt to murder his star student in his sleep. See him bitterly intoning that it's time for the Jedi to end. Watch him light a torch to burn down the first Jedi Temple. He will destroy it all in a vain hope to end the conflict. But, in truth, this violent man blew his chance and self-destructed. In the end, he wasn't a wise man. Luke Skywalker knew nothing and taught nothing. And he too is not to be trusted. Because when you need him most, he lets you down.

" _Amazing. Every word of what you just said is wrong_." It's Luke Skywalker's voice, condescending and harsh. And, oh how ironic.

Rey sees Ben Solo now. Like it or not, he is to be a Jedi, like his uncle before him. He has his grandfather's height, those Skywalker locks, and the family's trademark Force. He too swings a blue sword, but this time it's in self-defense. For Kylo Ren was the victim long before he became the aggressor. He is frantic and instinctive in his will to live that fateful night at the Temple. It culminates in a contagion of Force unleashed that kills friend and foe alike. Is it possible to learn this power? Not from a Jedi. And so, after utter disillusionment and loss, young Solo flees to a Dark Master. He thinks Snoke will have the answers. But he doesn't. And so, the trusting boy is trapped as the Apprentice. His power grows and along with it his frustration. He vents his rage in legendary violence. Watch him oversee the destruction of an entire planet. Witness him slay his father in cold blood. See him threaten to destroy everything and everyone in a public meltdown of humiliating nihilism. This violent man seeks to burn down the galaxy so he can rule it. And why not? It's the family tradition. He's merely finishing what his grandfather started.

A woman's voice sounds now. " _There is no father. I can't explain what happened_." A doomed Jedi Master thinks he can, and he convinces his brethren the fatherless boy is special. But a Sith Master has a different explanation that he is equally certain of. The sly Sith makes sure to mentor the budding prodigy as he matures. No one knows who this man truly is, but both the Jedi and the Sith secretly fear him. Is he the Chosen One? Could he be the Sith'ari? Conceived in the Force, Anakin Skywalker's destiny is revolution. He will betray them all, disappoint everyone, and he and his progeny will upend history forever. Because the bloodline of the Skywalkers cuts a deep fissure through all the conventional wisdom. They are a mystery to everyone including themselves. And yet, each in his own way is shockingly altruistic. Because . . . they are unnatural. Part man, part Force, and all hubris.

There is so much, too much, in the vision for Rey to pick apart. And she lacks much of the critical context for it all. But she's perceptive in ways others are not, having a finely attuned survival instinct. And right now, her gut is warning her of danger. Extreme danger.

Whether it is fair to fault Kylo Ren for his actions and his attitudes is beside the point. Because all that matters is that he is the latest scion of the first family of the Force. The race of demigods begotten, not made, in the energy that binds the universe together. Are they the favorites of the Force? Or are they cursed by it? Rey can't tell. But members of his family are the ultimate agents of change for the galaxy, veering from one extreme to another. As instruments of the cosmic Force, their will is not wholly their own and their choices decide the fate of countless others. But most especially, the people closest to them. Rey sees now that the Skywalkers are very, very dangerous. And she has managed to cross paths with three of them already. Her instinct now is the same as her instinct when she saw the vision from the saber on Takodano: Run!

Frantic Rey elbows past Kylo and takes off at a sprint.

"No, wait! Wait!" he calls after her.

But Rey doesn't look back. She is through the bedroom and out into the hallway with her long Senator dress plucked up in her fingers as her feet pound fast.

"Wait!" Kylo is giving chase now. "Tell me what you saw!" he demands.

Rey pauses briefly to slam open a door locked from the inside, and then she flees past a startled pair of praetorians as she exits to the public areas of the Palace. They take one look at the charging Supreme Leader and join the chase themselves. Brandishing their weapons, these men call for reinforcements to intercept the threat. Two or three turns through wide deserted corridors and abruptly Rey is cut off.

Kylo and two praetorians pursue her from behind.

Four praetorians rush up to meet her.

Rey is at a distinct disadvantage not knowing the Palace layout. But she's not one to be taken easily. Still acting on instinct, she opens her right palm and the Force pike of an incoming praetorian flies into her grip. Rey doesn't even attempt to aim it. She just hurls the spear. It crashes through the red armored chest of her would-be capturer. Rey throws the other three men hard with the Force before they can get a shot off. It's pure adrenaline combined with the Force.

"Hold your fire!" Kylo bellows from behind. "Don't hurt her!" he orders.

And Rey, who has been the one to escalate the situation, is suddenly uncertain. She halts and stands spooked like a cornered animal. Ready to fight. Ready to flee. Ready for anything.

Kylo stops ten meters behind her and starts talking her down. "Don't run!" he pants. "Don't be afraid! Do not fear the Dark Side. Embrace it!"

She just blinks at him blankly.

"Rey, you cannot run from Darkness. It will find you! You will be drawn to it. That is the nature of balance. The Light and the Dark are dependent on each other. Darkness rises and the Light meets it. That's you, Rey! It's you!"

He's talking Force but she just wants to escape. She needs to get as far as possible from that creepy mask.

"You're monsters—all of you!" she shrieks. "Luke was the same."

"It's true. It's why I need you."

"You Skywalkers are capable of anything!" Rey accuses. "I can't trust you!"

"Then trust the Force. Come," Kylo beckons her towards him. "Tell me what you saw. Help me understand what has you scared."

But Rey of Jakku knows a threat when she sees one. Call it the Force, call it a gut instinct, call it a will to survive, but Rey declines. She calls a blaster dropped by one of the guards to her hand and announces her intentions plainly. "I'm leaving. And I will kill anyone who tries to stop me." She looks Kylo squarely in the eye and orders "Do not follow me" in her best Jakku bluster voice.

Kylo nods slowly his acceptance. He looks resigned. Disappointed, too. He orders his guards to stand down. "Then go in peace," he calls to Rey. "And may the Force be with you."


	15. Chapter 15

Kylo gives Rey two days of breathing space.  Well, it’s more like a day and a half.  Because he is waiting in her apartment when she wanders in around midday.  He’s had the spaceport watched and a covert tail on her since she left the Palace.  Luckily, she didn’t flee far.  Kylo figures she’s had enough time to cool off.  He presents himself and hopes for the best.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

So that’s how it’s going to be?  Kylo is disappointed at how Rey greets him.  But, truthfully, he’s not surprised. Her default setting can be a bit harsh, not unlike his own. Neither of them is a people person.

 

“I told you not to follow me,” she growls.

 

“Are you okay?”  Kylo looks her over.  She seems okay.   “You weren’t at work today.  Or yesterday.”

 

“I’m fine.  Force visions are not my favorite thing.  That’s all.”  Rey shoots him a resentful look. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

 

“Neither did I,” he reminds her. 

 

He didn’t ask to be born a Skywalker with the Force.  But Rey looks so angry with him now, like somehow it’s his fault.  It’s times like these when he remembers how young Rey is.  At twenty-two, she’s at a stage in life where most young women are rushing headfirst to follow their own individual dreams for the future.  Rey wasn’t raised in his family of heroes where leadership and public service were the expectation.  His mother would have been crushed if he had turned out to be merely a private citizen.

 

As Rey looks at him as though he is the cause of her every problem, Kylo reminds himself that she didn't grow up with the lore of the Force.  Rey is like a layperson in most respects and most laypeople are terrified of the Force.  So her reaction to Vader’s mask is somewhat understandable.  It’s more than just her being juvenile. But her instinct to run away at every crisis is getting old.  She needs to grow up.

 

“Well, now that you know I’m fine, you can leave,” Rey informs him as she plants one hand on her hip.  She looks as irritated as he feels.   And this is wrong, so wrong.  He doesn’t want to argue. Where is that quiet simpatico they had together two nights ago?

 

“I have only ever wanted to help you,” Kylo grinds out, striving hard to keep his cool.  “I wish you could believe that.” 

 

Rey looks indignant. “You want too much from me.  I can’t be all the things you want me to be.  And I don’t think I should try.  You and your family are dangerous.”  Her face hardens.  “If I hang around you long enough, I’m going to end up dead.  I’m not stupid.”

 

“You’re afraid,” he accuses. 

 

“Of course!  Any sane person would be.”  Rey scowls openly at him.  “If there’s a lesson to you Skywalkers, it’s stay far, far away.” 

 

What began as a tense conversation has now become a full-fledged argument.  Kylo tries to tamp down the conflict.  “I’m not going to hurt you.   Don’t be afraid.   What did Vader show you?” He’s dying to know.  “What has you so upset?”

 

Rey turns away. “It was images.  Feelings mostly.  I saw him.  And Luke and you.  It’s . . . well, it’s hard to describe.”  And, yes, he knows.  Most Force visions are.  They aren’t a linear narrative like a story you can retell.  The Force is mysterious.

 

“You Skywalkers are all so alike even if you pretend to want different things. And I get it—you want balance.  But I don’t know what that has to do with me,” Rey complains, looking petulant.

 

Here is his opening.  Kylo walks fast to her side.  “Rey,” he grabs for her arm as she makes to turn away.  “Rey, I can’t do this alone.  I need your help.”   There’s no one left in the galaxy who he can turn to for help except this girl.  She has to help.  She simply has to.  For a fleeting moment, Kylo has empathy for his uncle who in his early twenties had set out to rebuild the Jedi Order all by himself.  How daunting must that have felt?

 

But Rey isn’t going for it.  “This isn’t my fight anymore.  I gave up all this Force stuff after the war.  You’re the one who keeps pulling me back in,” she glares at him as she breaks loose of his grip.  “I was doing just fine on Dantooine.  And then you had to go and ruin it.”

 

“You can’t run away from this—“

 

“Watch me!” Rey hisses.  “This is your family’s crusade, not mine.  I didn’t set out to save the galaxy.  I was trying to help a droid.”

 

Oh, come on.  “You took a lightsaber to Luke Skywalker at a Jedi temple,” Kylo reminds her.  “Stop pretending that you didn’t set out to learn the Force.  You stole Luke’s books.  You stormed Snoke’s ship.  You were all in until you lost.  Until you realized that the sainted Jedi were not as infallible as they pretended to be.”

 

“I moved on!” she shouts back. “After the war, I had to move on. You killed everyone I knew!  Look, I agreed to try being a Senator to represent the ideals of the Republic and the Resistance.  And I’ll swing a saber with you now and then.  But that’s it.  I draw the line there.  I’m not going to old observatories and conducting seances with Vader’s mask or whatever you do with that creepy thing.”

 

“Have you forgotten that there’s some guy out there in the Unknown Regions biding his time?” Kylo rumbles. 

 

“You don’t know that.  It’s just a hunch.”

 

“Are you willing to stake the fate of the Empire on that hope?   Because I have a responsibility to my citizens, Rey.  I want to be a good leader.   This isn’t just about me.  Where’s your sense of patriotism, Jedi?” Kylo goads her.

 

She raises an eyebrow.  “Seriously?  Seriously??  You’re faulting me for my lack of patriotism to the First Order?  I was Resistance, remember?”

 

“You’re a Senator of the Galactic Empire now.  And that’s where you should be today,” Kylo scolds. “The Senate is in session right now.”

 

Rey blows it off. “They can carry on without me. I’m one vote out of a thousand.”

 

“You’re the one vote that matters,” he snaps back. “I tell all the rest of them what to think.   You’re the only independent voice.”

 

Rey just sighs and sits down heavily on a couch.  She runs a hand through her messy, loose hair.  For the first time, Kylo notices how tired she looks.  How stressed out.  “Is that praetorian dead?” she asks in a small voice.

 

“The one you impaled?  Yes.  The rest are fine.”

 

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she says in a small voice, sounding very defensive and contrite.  “I was acting on instinct.”

 

“I know.  That’s how I killed my friends at Luke’s temple. By accident.  The Force was acting to protect me then just like it did for you last night.  The Force protects its favorites against all odds. You are one of them.”

 

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she says again, looking like she might cry.  And trust it to Rey to feel guilty over some random guard.   Kylo finds all her gnashing of teeth over the fate little people to be pointless.  Because why isn’t she worried about his fate instead?

 

“I don’t care who you kill,” Kylo tells her honestly.   “You do what you need to do.  Rules don’t apply to people like you and me.   But, for the future, you can come and go in the Palace and no one will stop you.”  He looks her in the eye. “I will trust you. Like I trust in the Force.”

 

She slants him a glance now. “Is this the part when you say this is destiny?”

 

“Yes,” he says as he sinks down beside her on the couch.  “We are Light and Dark rising together for a common purpose.  Fate unfolds through our actions and our choices.  We are history in the making.”  It comes out a bit grandiose, but he means every word of it. 

 

It prompts a wry half-smile from Rey.  She’s as irreverent about the Force as usual.  “Do you say that to all the girls?”

 

He looks her in the eye and leans in close.  “There are no other girls.  You know that.”

 

Does she know that?   She does.  Rey nods. 

 

“The Force makes no mistakes.  And it always gets its way in the end.  Don’t set yourself up in opposition to the Force,” he warns. 

 

Rey throws up a dismissive hand.  “Don’t start fear mongering or Force mongering or whatever—“

 

“It’s true.  The past is replete with fools who set out to defy the Force and failed—“

 

“Let me guess, most of them were Sith,” Rey argues.

 

“Well, yes.  But the point is—“

 

“Just let it go, Kylo!”  Rey launches to her feet and quickly crosses the room.    “This isn’t my fight any longer.   I knew we shouldn’t see each other anymore after Jakku.  We can’t just be friends.   That’s not enough for you.  I see that now.  You are relentless,” she complains. 

 

He takes that remark for a compliment.  And now understanding dawns.  This isn’t exclusively about that Force vision.  This is also about those kisses.  Well, Kylo refuses to take back those kisses.  In fact, he’s angling for more. 

 

He presents himself at her back and admits, “You’re right.  We can’t be friends,” he agrees gruffly. 

 

When she turns around to speak, he makes his move.  Emboldened by his success last time, he doesn’t give her time to pull away.  He just pulls her to him for a kiss.

 

This time, he is less restrained.  This is no soft salute.  This is a hungry, demanding passionate kiss.  The kind of kiss that doesn’t end the night, it begins it.  Is he doing this right?  He’s not sure.  Kylo has no experience in these things.  But he must be doing something right because she’s not pulling away. The kiss goes on and on until finally she lurches back.

 

They are both breathless and panting.  Wide eyed and unsure.  And the Force is suddenly swirling around them.  Can she feel that?   Does she know how they affect the universe?  That is the feel of destiny, Kylo decides.

 

He goes for his big pitch again now. “Join me.  Rey, join me.”  They can be everything together.  Lovers, rulers, friends, allies.   With their combined power, there is nothing they cannot do.  They will let nothing stand in their way.

 

“Have you heard nothing I’ve said?” Rey retorts hotly.  “I don’t want this!”

 

“Stop lying to yourself!” he hisses back.   “You lied to yourself because you couldn’t face the truth about your parents.  Now you’re lying to yourself because you refuse to face the truth about the Force and about us.  Stop deluding yourself!  It’s childish.  Grow up, Rey,” he complains.  It comes out harsh.

 

“Are you finished?   If you are, get out!”

 

“I can give you everything!” he explodes.  “Power, position, credits, fame.  What more do you want?”  Rey is just like his mother, Kylo decides.  Nothing ever satisfied Leia Organa.  No wonder his father left.  It’s discouraging to keep trying to please someone who won’t be pleased.

 

As Rey stands there stumped, Kylo plays his trump card and makes the ultimate offer.  He will woo Rey with the gift money cannot buy and possessions cannot replace.  “I will love you if you will let me,” he vows.  “No one has ever loved you before.  But I will.  I will take care of you.  Like you deserve.”  Rey needs this, he reasons.  Probably far more than she knows.  And he needs this too. 

 

Rey is taken aback.  She’s open mouthed and speechless for a moment.  Good.  He’s making headway. 

 

“Your parents threw you away like garbage.  I will make that up to you. I will make you happy, I promise.  Together we will be happy,” he vows.  They will be the generation of Skywalkers who get it right and live happily-ever-after. They will end his family’s dismal track record on relationships. 

 

“Why should I trust you?” Rey wails, looking torn.   “You have turned on everyone who ever cared about you.  Your parents, Luke, even Snoke.”

 

“Things will be different with us.”

 

“If I believed that, I would join you.  But I don’t trust you, Kylo.  And that means I will never love you.”  Rey says last bit in a ringing tone that sounds depressingly determined. 

 

So, Kylo swallows hard and compromises.  “That’s okay.”

 

“What??”

 

“You don’t have to love me back.  Just be with me.  Just help me.” Kylo is fully prepared to humble himself to keep Rey in his life.   Right now, he’ll take what he can get. Because damn, this is taking too long.  For over two years, he’s been waiting for this girl to wise up and be with him.  Here he is, the master of the known universe and yet this scavenger waif seems to hold all the cards. 

 

“I will love you,” Kylo persists, pressing his case.  “You’ll never be lonely again.  You will belong to me.”  Hell, he’ll even marry her if that’s what she wants. 

 

Rey looks scared now.  Really scared.   As scared as she had after that Vader vision.   As scared as she had looked on her knees in Snoke’s throne room.  And when Rey is scared, she runs.  Not literally this time. Instead, she pushes happiness away with both hands. 

 

“Go.   Just go,” she dismisses him.

 

Kylo is stung.

 

“You,” he lashes out, “you are the reason you are lonely! You are the cause of your own unhappiness!   How long are you going to blame things on your parents and on Jakku?  When are you going to let the past die??”

 

“I am trying,” she hollers back, “but it’s not easy.  And I refuse to settle for you as my future!”

 

That comment pisses him off.  He’s the master slaying, galaxy conquering ruler of the known universe, the Crown Prince of doomed Alderaan, and the latest Skywalker son. He’s more than an eligible match for some feckless desert trashpicker.  Furious and desperate to get away lest he react with violence and make things worse, Kylo stalks off.

 

He makes it back to the Palace before he lights his sword.  Then, he proceeds to demolish an idling shuttle he sees on the landing pad next to where he parks his speeder.  It’s been a long time since Kylo has engaged in such a public tantrum.  He knows this sort of behavior is beneath him as Supreme Leader.  It will only add fuel to the rumors of his instability and recklessness.  But whatever.  Right now, he needs to destroy something.  But even as he swings his sword repeatedly until he breaks a sweat, Kylo knows this will provide on a temporary satisfaction.  The core problem remains.  He needs to find accord with Rey and find a semblance of balance for his conflicted soul.   His current lovesick Dark state is unsustainable in the long run. 

 

Truth be told, the few months Rey has been back in his life have been amazing.  He’s been more hopeful and more focused than he has been in a long time.   Committed to bettering the galaxy for her as much as for everyone. For now, his goal of ruling together and finding balance seems actually achievable.  And, for all the drama Rey brings, she relieves the loneliness that has long dogged his psyche.  He and Rey are good for one another.  Why can’t she see that?

 

But with Rey, it’s always two steps forward and one step back.  So distrustful and uncertain is she. The emotional whiplash of chasing her has Kylo exhausted. She blows hot and cold, she’s all in and then she’s running away, she’s a master at mixed messages and yet she’s unerringly direct.   She has him wrapped around her little finger but she doesn’t seem to realize it.  That’s how clueless his near feral orphan girl is.   How can she be so intuitive about the Force and such a quick study at nearly everything and yet be so obtuse?  And why is it that when they drop the Force talk and the politics and just hang out together, she always seems to enjoy his company?   She likes him.  He could swear that she really likes him.  And more than just as a friend.  She had been an enthusiastic participant in that kiss.

 

Once the shuttle is destroyed, Kylo orders an impromptu trip to the Rim to inspect some random garrison.  They will leave immediately, he decides.  It’s all a pretext to go to Vader’s castle but no one needs to know that.  Kylo tells himself he’s not running away like Rey does.  But in truth, he is.  He needs to lick his wounds for a bit from the girl whose kiss says yes but whose voice says no. 

 

And maybe he has made progress.  The first time he offered her the galaxy she tried to pull a sword on him.   This time, she just threw him out.  That’s an improvement, right?  But still . . . Kylo is discouraged.  Very, very discouraged.  And that makes him especially Dark. 

 

This is the double-edged sword of his existence.  Darkness stokes his power but simultaneously promotes his misery.   For the Darker he becomes, the more conflicted he is.  It is the Force pushing for balance within him.  This is the curse of being a Skywalker.  It is why Rey is his elusive salvation, and why even as he wallows in his rejection, he lusts for her more than ever.  

 

After a cursory walk through of some minor outpost, Kylo broods for an entire day on Mustafar.  Mostly, he stares transfixed at the red-yellow eddies and swirls of the lava river as he drifts aimlessly in the Force.  And then, against his better judgement, he heads for the portal to the World Between Worlds.  Because whatever reality he finds there has to be more encouraging than his own, he judges. 

 

This place is indescribably amazing.  He is in the Force now.  Part of its teasing possibilities and perplexing contradictions.  This is a metaphysical realm where time bends backwards on itself and jumbles things up.  It feels so real and yet it isn’t.  This is a dreamscape that is part fantasy you never want to end and part nightmare you can’t wake up from.  Where is he this time?  Kylo looks around at the vaguely familiar surroundings.  Is this the Death Star again?   Yes, it is.  But this time, Kylo recognizes the reality he is in.  Sweet.  He loves this version of the future.  He saw it briefly years ago but it made a big impression.  Darth Sidious isn’t in charge in this timeline.  Darth Vader is. 

 

That has Kylo excited for what the Force will reveal.  Walking purposely, he rounds the corner to see his uncle exiting the throne room.  Luke Skywalker is dwarfed by the two red robed old school Imperial guards who flank the entrance.  But though his uncle lacks impressive stature, he does not lack gravitas. This version of Lord Vader’s son is the Crown Prince and Heir Apparent to the old Empire.  Sith Luke does not lack for swagger.  Just look at him in his black tunic, enviable hair, and flowing cape.  Pure badass.

 

His uncle shoots him a disgusted, resigned look.   “You’re late, and it’s not a good day for it.  He’s in a foul mood.”  

 

As if to underscore these words, another pair of Imperial guards exits the throne room, dragging the body of an unfortunate admiral between them.  Yes, this is vintage Lord Vader doing what he does best: ruling the galaxy with ruthless Dark efficiency.  Supreme Leader Ren is impressed.

 

“That’s the second one today,” Luke Skywalker observes.  He adjusts his black gloves as he talks.  The movement reveals real skin peeking from beneath his right cuff.  In this reality, Darth Vader never cut his son’s hand off over Bespin.  This is the fairytale happily-ever-after version of his family ruling the galaxy together.  It makes Kylo smile inside.   Thank you Force, he thinks.  He needed this fun fantasy to cheer him up.

 

But Luke scowls at him and warns, “Have you got a good explanation ready?   Because I haven’t seen him this pissed since your mother ran off with that smuggler fellow and he sent me to go kill him.”

 

Wait--Luke killed Han Solo?   That’s another thing to like about this reality. 

 

“Well, go in.  Stalling won’t make it any better.”

 

Kylo takes a deep breath, wondering what he’s in trouble for.   Apparently, he’s here for a dressing down.  He steps forward past the guards into the dim throne room and girds himself for lightning. It’s the standard Dark Side punishment.

 

The chair on the high dais is swiveled away facing the window, so he can’t see its occupant.  But the telltale artificial respiration is absent.   In this reality, Lord Vader had the high ground on Mustafar and Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one who burned.  Then the young Darth Vader did what he promised:   he overthrew his Master Darth Sidious and seized his Empire for himself.   He’s been holding the galaxy together with an iron fist for over fifty years now.

 

Kylo promptly kneels in the traditional obeisance of the Dark Side.  And waits. 

 

The chair turns, revealing the old man that is his grandfather.  Like all the Skywalkers, he has a full head of thick hair, now white from age.   The scar that bisects one eye is more pronounced and his right arm is clearly a prosthetic, but the rest of Lord Vader is all there and untouched except by time.  He is dressed in stately black robes trimmed in silver that Kylo makes a mental note to emulate. 

 

Anakin Skywalker is very displeased. “You are a disgrace,” his grandfather intones in a chilling voice that makes Kylo squirm.  “Too much like your shifty father.   I knew it was a mistake to let my daughter bear you.”

 

Er . . . ouch.   That’s a level of contempt Snoke never even got close to.   His grandfather, like the rest of his clan, does not pull his punches.  The Skywalkers have always saved their most fierce attacks for one another. 

 

“I give you responsibility and you shirk it.  I give you opportunity and you ignore it.  Too busy wasting time with your friends and playing the bon vivant on Coruscant.”

 

Wait—in this reality he has friends?   Cool.  

 

“Always, you can be found in one of two places. In a cockpit doing daredevil stunts or at some seedy bar in the Underworld.  You mother was horrified to see your drunken mugshot splashed all over the holonet.  You were high on spice, too.  Do not deny it.  I saw it in your eyes.”  Vader pauses to let his tirade sink in.  Then he jeers, “Have you any explanation?”

 

“No, Sir,” Kylo dutifully hangs his head.  But inside all he can think is damn his life here sounds fun.

 

“No, what?” Vader snaps.

 

“No, Master,” Kylo quickly corrects himself. 

 

“Your mother may make excuses for you, but I will not.  You are too old, too capable, and too powerful for these antics.  Grow up, Ben.  At your age, I was ruling the galaxy.  At your age, your uncle was putting down the Rebellion.  What have you done?   Nothing but wreck a lot of starships and smoke a lot of spice.”

 

The frowning Sith patriarch Darth Vader looms over him.  “What are you going to do with your life?”

 

How does he answer that question?  He usually acts like his normal self in these settings, so Kylo answers truthfully. “I want to balance the Force.”

 

Lord Vader dismisses this outright.  “It can’t be done.  That’s a Jedi wives’ tale like all the rest of their prophecy and superstition.  It’s a fool’s errand that will lead you into dangerous territory.”  His grandfather now purses his lips and narrows his eyes.  “Have you been dabbling in the Light again?”

 

“Uh . . . ”

 

“Answer me!”

 

Booze and spice are frowned upon, but apparently the Light is the real transgression here.  And that makes sense since these are the Skywalker Sith, Kylo decides.  Curious to see what will happen, again he is truthful.  “Yes, Master.  I feel the call to the Light.”

 

“Resist it!” Vader hisses.

 

“I can’t,” Kylo readily admits.  And, more importantly, he confesses, “I don’t want to.”

 

“You must!   We are the Sith and we are the first family of the Force.   We are Dark.  End of discussion.”

 

“But you were a Jedi once—you were the Chosen One—“

 

“You defy me?” Lord Vader speaks sharply.

 

Kylo gulps.  “No, Sir.”

 

“What has brought this on again?   What has you self-destructing once more?   Well?”

 

Kylo knows he was born a conflicted soul but it’s gotten worse, must worse since he met Rey of Jakku.  That’s no coincidence, he thinks.  And he confesses it now to his grandfather, hoping to glean some of his wisdom.  “I met a girl.”

 

“That Underworld mechanic waif you are seeing?” Kylo must looked shocked by this response because Lord Vader smirks with satisfaction. “Yes, I know about her.”

 

Kylo hazards the truth again.  “She has the Force.  Lots of Force.  She is very powerful, Master.  And she is Light.”

 

“You know the protocol for discovered Force users.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Then why is she still alive?  Is it because she’s cute and lets you go to bed with her?” Lord Vader demands.

 

He hasn’t gotten beyond first base yet with Rey.  But that’s not the point.  Kylo says the words before he can stop himself.  “I think I love her.”

 

Darth Vader actually rolls his eyes at him.  And wow, that stings.  Who knew Lord Vader was so sarcastic?  He’s kind of an asshole, actually.  “You don’t love girls like that.  You amuse yourself and move on.   She is beneath you,” his proud grandfather sniffs.  And, really, for an ex-slave, that’s an obnoxious attitude, Kylo thinks.

 

“I don’t care,” he declares stanchly.  In any and every reality, Rey is his girl.  That’s how destiny works.

 

“Is she the one filling your head with this Jedi balance nonsense?”

 

“No, Sir.  These are my own ideas,” he admits.  The Jedi might have contemplated balance in the abstract, but they saw it as a goal and not as a necessity.  It took Kylo living torn apart for years before he realized how urgently he himself and the galaxy need balance.  “Darkness rises and Light meets it.  The Force naturally pushes for balance in the aggregate and in ourselves.  Master, if we get too strong as Sith, the Force will humble us by ensuring our destruction.  The Light will rise to equal us,” Kylo warns.

 

Lord Vader’s answer is curt.  “There are no limits on my power. Certainly not from the Light Side.”

 

“But you were the Chosen One!” Kylo wails before he can stop himself.  “You were supposed to destroy the Sith, not join them.”

 

Lord Vader smirks.  It’s a disconcertingly familiar expression.  “The Jedi got it wrong. I was never their savior, I was their executioner. The Chosen One was conceived in the Force and created by the Sith to rule the galaxy in Darkness.  Balance is not our goal.  Power is our goal.  Never forget that.”    

 

This is the flipped version of his own life, Kylo realizes.  Only the Force orthodoxy here is Sith, not Jedi.  Instead of his uncle punishing him for being too Dark, Kylo is being punished for being too Light.  And by the Chosen One Lord Vader himself.  It’s . . . weird.

 

And, it ticks Kylo off.  “You failed!   You failed us all!   You were supposed to fix this!”  Kylo vents his frustration at his predicament in his own reality.  That his much beloved and admired grandfather left him in this position makes it especially galling.  “You were the nexus of the living Force and the cosmic Force—you were the convergence of life in the moment and the arc of history.  The man who could be simultaneously Light and Dark, both Jedi and Sith. With the wisdom of both traditions and the ability to end all this conflict.  But you failed!”  Kylo shakes his head and twists his face.   “And now, it falls to me.  And I don’t know how to do it.  There’s no one left to teach me.  I’m as lost as Rey is!” he explodes.

 

Darth Vader had proper Jedi training for years before he was apprentice to a bona fide Sith.  Not like Kylo who had lousy, half-trained Luke Skywalker as a mentor and under-powered showman Snoke as his Master.  He never properly learned the Light or the Dark.  So how can he be expected to balance the Force?  And what exactly would he teach Rey if she agreed to train with him?  Truthfully, Kylo has no idea.  It’s all so fucked up now.  And unless Kylo figures it out and passes his wisdom on to a student, the knowledge of the Force will die with him.   Then, history will remember Kylo Ren as the man who plunged the galaxy into an era of secularism.  He’ll be the Skywalker who killed the Force.

 

“There is no mystery. Darkness is the answer,” Darth Vader intones sagely.

 

But Kylo dares to disagree.  “It’s only half the answer!  Can’t you see that??  I know you see that!  I saw all the Jedi crap you hoarded on Mustafar,” Kylo sneers petulantly.  “Don’t pretend you haven’t dabbled in the Light yourself.”

 

This uber-Sith version of Darth Vader is displeased in the extreme with this outburst.  But rather than shoot lightning, he orders to a guard, “Bring her in.”

 

The ‘her’ in that sentence has Kylo’s hair standing on end.  And, sure enough, his worst fears are realized when a squad of stormtroopers drags in a thin young woman dressed in greasy coveralls with a bandage covering her eyes like a blindfold.  She is unceremoniously thrust at Emperor Vader’s feet.

 

Horrified Kylo rushes up to intervene.  “Rey!   Oh, Rey!   What have they done to you?”

 

“I blinded her myself,” his grandfather answers proudly.  “She had the gall to offer to bring me to the Light.  She claimed that I am conflicted.  Foolish girl.  Now, she will no longer see the Light.  Any light.”

 

“B-Ben,” Rey croaks out as she raises spread fingers to poke at his face.  “Is t-that y-you?  It’s you . . . I know your Force imprint . . .”

 

“Oh, Rey.”  Kylo envelopes her trembling, groping form in his own, cradling her to his chest.    “Rey, we will get you doctors and see if this can be fixed—”

 

“It is permanent,” his grandfather interjects with clear relish.  “She is lucky to be alive.  Rarely do I show mercy, but this case was special.”

 

“You will pay for this!” Kylo starts spewing threats.  “You have sown the seeds of your own downfall, Master!” he boldly crows.  Because fuck this version of his grandfather.  In the choice between Vader and Rey, he chooses Rey.  He will favor the future over the past.

 

Lord Vader chuckles and then sneers.  “Look at you—still Dark even in your wretched yearning for the Light. I didn’t kill her because I want her to see how Dark you will become.  She will turn from you—she will reject you in the end like your grandmother did to me.  And that’s when your soul will be truly Dark.”

 

“No!” Kylo takes issue with this progression of events.  “I have seen the future and she stands with me.  In the end, she stands with me!” he insists.  He saw it all clearly when he and Rey touched hands in the Force.  They are together until the very end, the star crossed improbable Dark-Light lovers who defy the old tropes of the Force.

 

“Go ahead.  Lie to yourself like the spoiled child you are.  But you cannot escape your destiny. You are a Skywalker, a son of Darkness, Sith born and Sith bred, and you are damned to be Sith like all the rest of us.  Your blood is our blood.   And that,” Lord Vader decrees, “is the only reason I am letting you live.”  Then Lord Vader leans forward on his throne as he speaks slowly.  “Listen well to what I say.  When you come back to me for vengeance, I win.  Strike me down and my victory will be complete.  I win.  Darkness always wins.”

 

Kylo just stands there trembling with outrage as Rey trembles with fear in his arms.

 

“Take her and go,” Lord Vader announces.  “You are exiled.  If I catch you in my Empire, I will execute you myself.” 

 

“What?”  Kylo lurches forward in disbelief.

 

“Go!  Preach your heresy elsewhere.  You are no longer welcome here.  You are cast out.  No longer are you part of this family.”

 

That pronouncement causes Kylo to lose all his inhibitions.  Because the only thing worse than being a Skywalker is not being a Skywalker.  “I hate you!” Kylo hisses up at his grandfather.  “And I shall return!  I’ll destroy you. I’ll destroy him,” Kylo gestures behind him to his uncle who watches in silence.  “I’ll destroy all of it.   All of you!   I will end the Sith and end the Skywalkers!   This Empire will fall to ashes!”  

 

“Get out before I change my mind and kill you both,” Lord Vader says with menace.

 

“Where do we go?” Rey wonders aloud as they exit the throne room together.

 

Luke Skywalker is the one to answer.  “I have a shuttle waiting to drop you in the Unknown Regions. Ben, I’m sorry this happened but you brought it on yourself.  You should never have defied him so openly.  You knew how he feels about the Light.”

 

“What’s in the Unknown Regions?” suspicious Kylo demands.    

 

“Someone who can help her,” Luke answers.  “They say he can raise the dead in the Force.  If he can do that, then he can surely heal her.  One of the old Jedi healers could fix her, but they’re long dead now.”

 

“Who is this person?”

 

“You’ll have to find him,” his uncle ignores the question.  “We’ve tried to find him for years.  He wants to be found.  But the Force won’t let just anyone find him.  The Master thinks we can’t find him because we are too Dark.  So maybe there’s hope for you,” Luke sniffs.

 

“Who is this person?” Kylo demands again.

 

“Find him and ask him yourself,” his uncle shrugs.  “No one is exactly sure.  But Force help you if you find him.  Because he is not to be trusted.”

 

“I hate Vader for this!”  Kylo whispers out words he never thought he would say about his revered grandfather.

 

Sith Luke is nonplussed about the confession.  “I hate him too. The first chance I get, I’m going to kill him.  I’m getting bored waiting for him to die on his own.”

 

Scowling, miserable Kylo makes a suggestion as he heads for the portal to exit this nightmare reality, “Trick him and light his sword.  That worked for me once.” 

 

Thankfully, Kylo steps through the portal and he’s back on Mustafar.  This is the reality where Vader is dead and Rey can still see.  This is the reality where the galactic despot is himself.  Relieved to be back home, Kylo decides that experience was not the Sith fairytale he had hoped for.  There are no answers in that particular reality.  Only more fucked up versions of his toxic family.  Rey doesn’t know how lucky she is to be an orphan, Kylo thinks grimly. 

 

He sees now that potential future is the endgame of the Dark Side: betrayals, conflict, violence, patricide, and self-destruction.  The Skywalkers couldn’t stay together in the Light and now Kylo has seen them crumbling on the Dark Side, too.  Neither side is the answer, he instinctively knows.   Could that be the message the Force wants him to understand?    Because if so, he’s got it.  Balance is his goal.  But how?

 

Damn, Kylo broods, he really needs to let the past die.  Maybe including his grandfather’s legacy.  Has he been emulating the wrong aspects of his beloved grandfather?  Has he been missing the point of Lord Vader?   He has long insisted that his grandfather was a hero and not the villain Luke and his mother portrayed him to be.  But is the truth that his grandfather was a failure just like Luke was a failure?   Kylo has always considered Vader’s mission unfinished, not bungled.  But is he wrong?    And, if so, where does that leave him?    Maybe the past is not where he should be looking for inspiration.  But where, then? 

 

Feeling more confused than ever, Kylo boards his shuttle and heads for his lonely Palace.  It’s a twenty-hour flight one way, which means he’ll arrive just in time for the Empire Day festivities.  And that will be perfect, Kylo decides.  This year, he’ll vent his unhappiness and kill all the prisoners.   That will make him feel better . . . sort of.  But first things first.  When Kylo arrives, he summons a flunkey and orders the Vader mask sent to Mustafar for safekeeping.  He will not keep it around if it will antagonize Rey.  And besides, Supreme Leader Ren is his own man.  Starting today.

 


	16. Chapter 16

The First Order is excellent at stagecraft, and today’s Empire Day festivities will have all the hallmarks the holonet audience watching at home has come to expect.  There will be a massive assembly of cheering onlookers, a pale and stern-looking group of uniformed officers and notables on a dais, and standing before the enormous unfurled red and black standard of the Order, the caped and masked strongman Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.     

 

As Rey is ushered towards the center of the packed Coruscant arena, she resolutely holds her head high.  She wishes she were sitting with the rest of the Senators, as one of the anonymous herd of faceless lawmakers.  But since Kylo put her with the VIPs, she will be very much on display.  At first, that circumstance had dismayed her.  But after her fight with Kylo, it has emboldened her.  Rey walks towards the grandstand, pointedly ignoring the camera bots that buzz by and then linger.  Yes, her outfit is attracting attention.  It’s just as she planned.

 

The VIP group Rey is sitting with is the who’s who of the First Order.  These are the power elite of the regime.  This is definitely not her crowd.  Rey heads for the one person milling about who she knows: Army Hux. 

 

“Obliterate.  Devastate.  Eradicate.  Desolate.  Annihilate.”   Hux is over-enunciating as he paces and chants out his favorite three syllable words. 

 

Rey raises an eyebrow as she walks up. “Those are scary verbs.  What are you doing?” she smiles.

 

“I’m warming up. Diction and articulation matter,” Army informs her with a quick glance.  “You should try it some time.”  He goes back to his vocal warmups.  “Peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers—“   Then Hux looks up again in a puzzled double take.  “Wait—whoa.”  He gives her a good look now, his gaze sweeping over her demure pale blue long day dress bought new for the occasion to linger on her distinctive hairstyle copied from Leia Organa’s Rebellion years.  The pair of giant hair buns had taken her grooming droid three attempts to replicate. But it was worth the effort.  The visual is evocative and surprisingly becoming.

 

“Well hello, Mommy,” Hux grins.  “Has Ren seen you yet?  Or did he put you up to this stunt?”

 

Rey frowns and stiffens.  “Ren and I are not speaking to one another.”

 

That answer makes Hux grin even broader.  “Lovers’ tiff?” he goads her.  Then he leers.   “Were there swords?   I need to know if there were laser swords.  Did you skewer him?   You must have won again because you seem to have all your limbs and your head.”

 

Rey stiffens some more.  “We are not lovers,” she announces in a frosty tone.   But the memory of that torrid kiss in her apartment makes her flush and now Rey is in an especially bad mood.  “Don’t you have a speech to be nervous about?” she complains.

 

“Who’s going to listen to my speech when they can laugh at your hair,” Army points out.  “Besides, I’m never nervous before a speech.  I live for this sort of thing.  This is me in my element,” Hux boasts.  And it’s true.  He’s a seasoned public speaker, a man long accustomed to the limelight.  His gargantuan ego soaks up moments like this.

 

Rey peers closer at him and does an inspection of her own.  “I think you have more makeup on than I do.”

 

“Naturally,” Hux preens.  “All eyes will be on me.   I need to look my freshest thirty-eight-year-old self.”

 

“Ren says you are forty.”

 

“Checking up on me?” he raises an eyebrow.  “That’s fake news, I assure you.  You might upstage me,” Army is more amused than concerned.  “Your rebel hair buns are getting lots of looks.”

 

“That was the point.”  It’s a visual ‘fuck you’ to Kylo Ren.   She’ll show up for his public execution but she will protest it—and him—visually.  And how can he be mad?   He told her he wanted her to be the opposition.   Be careful what you wish for, Kylo Ren.

 

“Break a leg, Army!” a man’s voice now hollers down from the dais. 

 

Another voice seconds the sentiment.  “Kill it, General!”

 

The Chancellor turns to nod in the direction of the well-wishers and flashes the First Order salute.  This is clearly a friendly crowd for Army Hux, full of his old cronies from his general days and his new cronies from his Senate gig.  Again, Rey is struck by how universally popular Hux is.  Do people genuinely like him?  Or do they like the power he wields?  Maybe both.  As bizarre as it seems, Starkiller Hux is a hero to many in the galaxy, Rey reluctantly concedes.

 

“Ah, here come the condemned.”  Army nods in the direction behind them. 

 

Rey turns and follows his gaze to see the men shackled hand and foot to be presented for execution.  “I hate this day,” Rey scowls.  It’s going to be an orgy of death, she fears.

 

“You know they lay odds each year in Canto Bight on how many prisoners will die.   This year’s estimate is sixty percent.  But the overall average is around fifty.  Care to wager, Senator?” Army asks.

 

“No. He’s going to kill them all,” she predicts.

 

“How do you know?”  Hux is intrigued.

 

“He is very angry.”

 

“Anger is his default setting,” the Chancellor shrugs.  “Ren destroyed some shuttle at the Palace last week. He hacked away at it with his sword for thirty minutes before he was done.  It was an epic tantrum, even by Ren standards.   Did you know that during the war when I commanded the _Finalizer_ we had a line item on the ship’s budget for his destruction?  It was my fund to repair all the stuff he broke when he had a meltdown.  No instrument panel was safe from his sword.  Truly, it was an annoyance.  The maintenance guys hated him.”

 

There is a sudden flurry of activity and very visible security now.  “Ah, here comes our Supreme Leader, now,” Hux says in a borderline contemptuous tone.  Sure enough, Kylo Ren has arrived with his escort of praetorians and the spooky, elusive Knights of Ren.  “And look at the new threads.  That’s a bit . . . ornate,” the Chancellor damns his boss’ attire with faint praise.   “Hmmm.  Are you two covertly starting an Old Republic trend?   Because I do not endorse it as a fashion statement.”

 

Rey glances over to see Kylo is dressed for the occasion in black velvet robes lavishly trimmed in silver embroidery.  Instead of his usual cowl, he sports a hood.  With the mask, the look is equal parts Lord Sidious and Lord Vader.  And, as always, conspicuous at the Supreme Leader’s waist is his saber hilt.

 

“I don’t know . . . I kind of like it,” Rey judges.

 

“It’s costume-y,” Army sniffs.  “Callbacks should be more subtle,” he tells her with a pointed look at her hair buns.

 

“So says the man who dresses like Emperor Palpatine’s son,” Rey observes.

 

“Grandson,” Hux immediately corrects her.  “I’m thirty-eight, remember?  And I do have the Palpatine hair.”

 

“So what do the Knights of Ren do exactly?” Rey wonders aloud, changing the subject. 

 

“They used to hunt Skywalker. But now?  No one knows.”  Army shrugs.  “Mostly they wear masks and black and posture to look cool.  Even back in the day, Ren never seemed to like his own posse.  He ditched them all the time when Snoke was alive.”

 

Rey nods as she assesses, “Those guys do look scary.”

 

“One is a woman.  We all thought she was Ren’s girl but apparently not.  That’s your job.”

 

“Is not!” Rey retorts. 

 

“Do you believe yourself?   Because I don’t believe you,” Army smirks.  “Well, time to take our places. It’s showtime.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

Hux smiles blithely. “I don’t need luck.  Those prisoners are the ones who need luck.”

 

He’s right. But, unfortunately, luck is running short today.  Because after the showy video of accomplishments, after Army’s feel-good speech of lofty promises, and after the parade of military leaders receiving commendations for hunting down criminals in the Rim, the executions begin.  They go on and on.   And whereas Rey clapped politely at the video and the speech and the promotions, she refuses to cheer on this bloodlust.  Instead, she looks down at her hands, feeling very uncomfortable. 

 

Is Kylo enjoying this, she wonders?   One by one, the condemned are marched up, their crimes are detailed, and they are invited to beg for mercy.   As the deafening crowd shouts them down and demands death, Kylo Ren gives his audience what they want.  In all, twenty-four men lose their heads to delight the jubilant throng.   No one gets a pardon today.  This is justice, First Order style.  Most of the unlucky appear like the thugs the regime purports them to be, but others include legitimate bankers and businessmen accused of doing the lending and money laundering for the major cartels.  The message is clear:  aid or abet organized crime and you risk being dragged down along with them. 

 

It’s classic Kylo Ren, Rey realizes.  Just like the Starkiller, he’s using shocking violence to send a succinct, easily understood message.  No one doubts his sincerity.  And people will think twice before they risk his wrath.  It’s brute force astutely employed.

 

Rey can’t help but wonder if today’s body count is an intentional counterbalance to all the populist reforms Hux announced in his State of the Empire speech.  Army’s remarks began with a victory lap for the regime’s efforts to clean up the Rim and then quickly segued to a laundry list of ambitious campaign-like promises.   While none of those promises is surprising on a standalone basis, together the totality of the agenda is decidedly moderate.  In fact, there are plenty of items that Rey thinks Leia Organa could get behind.   It occurs to Rey that, putting aside the most extreme stuff, her problem with the First Order is less about its goals than about its means.  Because Kylo’s current agenda has something for everyone, including plenty for the Republic-leaning Core Worlds to embrace.

 

What is Kylo thinking?   As Rey watches his iconic sword flash down again and again, she wonders how he perceives this day.  Behind that blank mask Kylo could be thinking anything.  This is how the galaxy sees faceless Leader Ren, but it is disconcerting for Rey.  She knows a completely different version of him.  She knows a man whose face mirrors all of his emotions.  The guy has never learned a poker face because he wears a mask and doesn’t need one.  But that makes Kylo utterly transparent without it.  It’s endearing.  Oddly childlike, too.

 

What would life be like if Rey accepted Kylo’s offer to join him?  Would she be at his side today in silent support for this grotesque public spectacle?  Worse still, would she be expected to swing a sword along with him?  There are parts of Kylo’s agenda she could sign onto.  There are parts of his regime she could endorse.  But there is far too much that she cannot. 

 

Maybe if they were other people.  Maybe if they were just private citizens living their lives.  Then, she would be willing to take a chance on a romance with Kylo.  But the stakes are just too high.  They aren’t some regular young couple who can casually pursue a relationship to see if it works.  Kylo has far more in mind that just personal compatibility. He wants her help in his Senate and with the Force.  No pressure there.  And what if it didn’t work out?  Kylo doesn’t strike her as the kind of guy who you can break up with.  Because Skywalker family squabbles tend to be fought with swords.  With his clan, the personal is always political.  Everything has a backdrop of the Force and galactic governance that tends to turn arguments into civil wars. 

 

But if Kylo were just an ordinary man promising to love her?  Well, sure.  She’d go for it.  Why not?   Because the man beneath the mask has a lot going for him.  Rey likes that man more and more.  And therein lies the dilemma that makes Kylo Ren’s impassioned pleas to join him so gallingly tempting. 

 

“You called it,” Hux commends her afterwards.  “Zero pardons.  Those odds makers on Canto Bight got it wrong.”

 

“That was awful,” Rey condemns the whole spectacle.

 

Hux shrugs.  “Well, that’s over with.   Ride with me to the parade?”

 

“I’m skipping the parade.”

 

“I knew that.   Well, you had better flee before your landlord comes over to shake hands for the cameras.”   Sure enough, Kylo Ren and his retinue are heading this way. 

 

Before she can stop herself, Rey glances over.  She could swear she locks eyes with Kylo from behind his mask.  And once again, she wonders what he’s thinking.  Rey won’t pretend to have any particular expertise at reading Kylo’s moods, but she does sense his overall orientation in the Force.  Today, she senses only Darkness.  She feels his lust to dominate, his thrill to violence, and his satisfaction from control.   She picks up his ego rush from the cheering crowd, the Dark-tinged feeling of justice from the executions, and the deep sense of mastery that comes with wielding absolute power.   Where there was conflict, Rey senses resolve.  Where there was weakness, today there is strength.  This is Kylo Ren, the fallen Skywalker prince.  And today, he is Dark.   So Dark.   All Dark.

 

Rey can’t sense any conflict in him now.  It makes her sad.  No, she thinks, this is not the version of the man she knows.

 

Rey excuses herself quickly. 

 

“Pick you up at six?” Army calls after her.

 

“Fine,” she nods over her shoulder.  Rey can’t wait to leave. 

 

Hours later, Rey is finishing primping as the Chancellor’s speeder pulls up.  Rey purchased a ridiculously expensive dress for tonight with Kylo’s credits.  It is a long white column gown covered with beads that sparkle. The top has a demure capelet that falls from a wide neckline to cover her upper arms and shoulders. The sales lady had worried it was too mature for her, but Rey loves it.  She is striving for timeless elegance in the tradition of the Rebel leaders Leia Organa and Mon Mothma.  Her concession to youth tonight is to wear her long hair down. It’s a marked departure from her usual public uniform of tightly tied back hair.  With the help of her grooming droid, Rey manages a tumble of loose waves falling down her back.  Donning her silver heeled sandals and overpriced clutch repurposed from her night out for Army’s birthday party, Rey feels very glamorous.  Maybe it’s petty, but she is determined to look and act her best tonight.  Each your heart out, Kylo Ren, Rey thinks as she takes one last peek in the mirror. 

 

“Wow.  This place is a museum,” Army calls as he wanders in from the terrace.  “It’s like I’ve stepped back in time.  This is fancier than a Naboo queen’s wardrobe,” he judges.

 

“That fits,” Rey nods, thinking of its prior owner Mrs. Vader.

 

“How long has Ren owned this place?” Army asks as he looks around.

 

“Years, I think. It belonged to his grandparents.”

 

“Darth Vader lived here?” Army blinks.

 

“Supposedly.”

 

“Huh.  I don’t see it.  Well, whatever.  Senator, you look lovely,” Army pronounces.    

 

Rey blushes.  She still can’t take a compliment.

 

Army paces around her for a full inspection.  “Very ladylike.  Sort of stylishly prim.  I like it.  It suits you.  And you will stand out against all the red and the black just like you did this morning.  But I guess you knew that.”  Army flashes a conspiratorial look.  “You are all over the holonet from this morning—did you see?  The press will be in a frenzy when we show up together.  But smile this time.  No one is getting decapitated tonight.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure.  This part is terribly dull, I promise.  Are you ready?”

 

“Yes.”  Rey grabs her purse and allows the Chancellor to usher her to his very official looking speeder that tonight is flanked by a full police escort.

 

“You know, I should steal you from Ren,” Army muses with a mischievous look.  “I should steal his Empire, steal his girl, and steal this marvelous apartment.  Just look at this view.   I deserve this view.”

 

“Planning a coup?” Rey jokes as she ducks into the speeder.

 

Army settles in beside her.  “If I were, would you help?”

 

She laughs.  “That depends on what day you ask me.”

 

“You can defeat Ren.  We all know it.”

 

“I don’t know,” Rey expresses doubt.  “He was badly injured when I fought him last time.”  She thinks now of how quickly Kylo had beaten her when they sparred with pretend swords.

 

“So, you’re saying that if we injure him, you can finish him off?” Hux suggests expectantly with raised eyebrows.

 

And suddenly, it no longer feels like they are joking.  Rey’s eyes narrow. “Are you serious?  You’re serious!” she accuses.

 

Army smiles tightly as he brushes away her concern. “Of course, I’m joking.  If I weren’t, it would be treason.”

 

Still, Rey’s sense of danger is pricked.  Has she been a fool thinking that Kylo is the real danger to avoid?  Because now Rey wonders if she has overlooked the possibilities presented by Chancellor Hux.  This guy destroyed an entire planet with glee, she reminds herself.   Army Hux might be amusing and a helpful mentor, but he is capable of anything.  You don’t have to have the Force to be evil, she reminds herself.

 

The awkward moment passes while Army regales her with snarky commentary about the parade she skipped.  The short ride to the Palace takes all of five minutes.  And since Army is Army, his escorted speeder skips the regular valet line backup.  They pull right up front.

 

“Come, Senator.”   Army gallantly extends a hand to help her out of the speeder to her feet.  He grips her hand tightly as he tugs her forward towards the red carpet.  “Let’s get photographed.  Try to look happy to be here.  Or, at least, happy to be with me,” he instructs.

 

What follows is the most self-conscious ten minutes of Rey’s life.  Flashbulbs are popping as the press yell out questions.  Rey says nothing as she endeavors not to fidget.   She lets Army do the talking, which he clearly expects anyway.  She just smiles blankly, feeling like a third wheel in the love affair between Armitage Hux and the news media.  Finally, someone calls out a question for her.  “Senator, what prompted your hairstyle this morning?” 

 

Army squeezes her hand tightly to preempt her response.  Then, he answers the question for her.  “Wasn’t she beautiful?” Army gushes as he drags her away from the press.  “Keep them guessing,” he advises Rey under his breath as they walk away.  “Stunts like that never work if you have to explain it.”

 

Once they make it through the gauntlet of press and camera bots, Army steers them towards the Palace throne room.  It’s slow going here too because the Chancellor can really work a room.  In the celebratory atmosphere, everyone wants to greet Army and congratulate him on his speech.  The Chancellor doesn’t pass up anyone who approaches.  Rey just stands at his side, largely ignored in the rush of glad handing and politicking.  Finally, they make it to the throne room where Palace handlers quickly separate them.  The Chancellor gets conducted to his place of honor upfront while Rey is herded into an antechamber with the other Outer Rim Senators. 

 

Even here at the glittering Palace reception, Empire Day continues its compulsory displays of loyalty.   All thousand Senators will be presented to the Supreme Leader to repeat and renew their oath of office.  Only once this ceremony is finished will the party down the hall with the other thousand guests commence.

 

In groups of hundreds, the Senators are presented.  It starts with the Core Worlds, then the many Mid Rim Worlds, and finally the Outer Rim outposts.   Rey is in the very last group as an At-Large Senator from the Rim.  She’s basically an afterthought.  Standing in the back between two insect-looking aliens from the old Corporate Sector World of Kamar, Rey dutifully takes a knee and repeats the words she once said in this very room when Kylo threatened to murder a second grader if she didn’t.  Today, there is no compulsion, but Rey goes along with it.  She’s determined to make the most out of whatever this Senator role can be.  That’s the same sort of spirit Leia Organa and Mon Mothma must have had during their time in the Imperial Senate.

 

When the oath swearing is completed, Kylo reaffirms Army as Senate Chancellor.  That should conclude all the ceremony, but apparently Kylo isn’t finished. 

 

“Bring me the senior Senator from Kuat,” he orders.  But two praetorians have anticipated him.   On cue, they walk in with a richly dressed, very dignified looking human Senator between them. Rey and the rest of the Outer Rim Senators who have not yet been dismissed have a front row seat for the confrontation that follows. 

 

The praetorians present the unfortunate Senator to the Supreme Leader as the entire room leans forward in anticipation.  This is off script, and that is very unusual for the ruthlessly choreographed ritual of Empire Day. 

 

After a prolonged moment of silence that serves to increase the suspense a notch higher, Kylo’s amplified baritone sounds especially menacing.  “Senator, you have been enriching yourself at the public’s expense.”

 

The man’s eyes widen.  He stammers out, “I am an honorable man.  I am an honest public servant.”

 

“An investigation of your personal finances says otherwise,” Kylo counters. “You have been skimming from the treasury using defense contracts to hide it.”

 

The accused stiffens. “Excellency, those allegations are untrue.  I’m an honest man, I tell you!”

 

Kylo cuts him off with a curt wave of his hand.  “You’re lying to me, Senator.   I do not tolerate being lied to.”

 

“But Excellency—“

 

Kylo stands and lights his sword.  That abruptly silences the Senator’s string of denials.  And now, you could hear a pin drop in the crowded, cavernous throne room.   Kylo twirls his saber leisurely as he descends the dais his throne sits on.  “If you persist on lying to me, I will be forced to cut out your tongue before I cut off your head,” he drawls quietly.  “You get one last chance to confess your crime.  Senator, have you or have you not engaged in corruption?  Have you used your position to negotiate payments in exchange for supporting bids for government contracts?”

 

The man lifts his chin and digs in. “I have not.   I am innocent of these charges.” 

 

“So be it,” Kylo responds. “You were warned.”

 

The praetorians shove the Kuat Senator to his knees and step back. 

 

Everyone knows what’s coming next. 

 

But horrified Rey has seen enough.  She watched Kylo kill two dozen men this morning.  Surely that’s enough executions for one day.  This needs to stop.  And she says so.   As Kylo brandishes his sword to swing the killing blow she hollers, “STOP!”   It’s her very best Jakku ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone she used on rival scavengers. 

 

Kylo pauses. 

 

The room turns to her.  

 

And, uh oh.  What to do next?   Rey has not thought this through, there hasn’t been time.  But here goes.  With a deep breath, Rey steps forward to the front of the room even as Army covertly signals for her to stop.  Ignoring him, Rey presents herself behind the accused Senator from Kuat. 

 

“What is the meaning of this?” Kylo demands.  And although his voice is gruff, Rey could swear that he is smiling at her from behind his mask.

 

Uh . . . what now?  Rey has no idea if this guy is guilty or not.  And she doesn’t know if he’s telling the truth.   But this all seems way too rushed.  So, she argues, “This man deserves a trial.”

 

“There is sufficient evidence of his guilt,” Kylo counters coolly. 

 

“This man claims innocence. He deserves a trial,” Rey refuses to back down as she starts improvising fast. “All the condemned this morning were found guilty in a court of law.  The sentence of death was given first by a jury of their peers.  As a Senator of the Empire, this man deserves at least the same legal protections granted to those criminals.”

 

“I am the law in my Empire,” Kylo answers.  The mask turns in the direction of the accused.  “I will not tolerate corruption.  The Old Republic rotted from within from the greed of its leaders.  Too many of its Senators were voting their own self-interest and not the public good.”

 

Rey refuses to give in.  “Maybe so.  But this man deserves a trial and the public deserves to know the details of his crimes.”  Rey keeps struggling to find a convincing argument.  She’s no lawyer, but she thinks fast on her feet.  “If he is corrupt, then those who sought to influence him should be brought to justice as well.  Do not single him out as an example while others go free.”

 

“They will be punished, never fear. But first, this man dies,” Kylo decrees. 

 

“I am not asking for mercy, only for a fair and transparent process to confirm your judgment.  So that all will see the wisdom of your condemnation.  Let there be no doubt of your assessment, Supreme Leader,” Rey tries one last time.  “Give this man a trial to confirm it.”

 

A long, tense silence falls.   Rey has run out of arguments.

 

“Very well,” Kylo unexpectedly relents. “He will have a trial.”  Kylo extinguishes his sword and orders harshly, “Take him away!”

 

The accused is gaping with relief, Army Hux’s eyes are bulging, and the astounded crowd of Senators starts murmuring. 

 

Kylo now beckons over another pair of praetorians and orders, “Take her away too.”

 

As the guards appear at her elbows, Rey does not resist.  She is escorted from the room as Kylo declares the ceremony over and commands everyone to be his guest at the official reception.  The show is over.  The room empties fast.  Cynically, Rey wonders if other Senators are worried that their activities might merit the sword as well.

 

Rey and the stone faced Kuat Senator wait with their guards in an adjacent corridor.  Kylo sweeps in and orders the accused thrown in a cell.  Then that ugly blank mask turns to her. 

 

“You know what I need,” he rumbles softly as he raises a gloved hand towards her face.  “I know you know what I need.  Thank you for this.”

 

That’s when Hux barges in. “Ren, she didn't think—“

 

Kylo ignores his Chancellor.  His attention is all for her.  “Ever since I saw you this morning, I have been hoping you would be the Light for me.”  With those words, he jumps fully into her mind.  Unprepared for this intrusion, Rey can’t stop it.  Her head jerks back and her eyes squeeze shut as she gasps. 

 

Army is alarmed.  “Don’t choke her!  There’s been enough killing today—“

 

But he’s not choking her.  He’s burying his mind in hers.  He did this once before and vowed never to do it again.  “No!” she gasps.  “Kylo, you promised—”  He lost control last time he did this.  It went on and on and on, scaring them both.

 

But Kylo snarls over her objection.  “You know I can take whatever I want.  You should know better than to tease me.”

 

Whaaat??  She tries to thrust him out of her consciousness, but he’s in too deeply.  She’s swaying now on her feet as Kylo steps forward to jerk her to him.  She is pressed to his chest as his gloved hands plunge to the roots of her hair, thrusting her head back as he leans his mask to her cheek.  Touch promotes the mental connection, she remembers.  But the hard mask and thick gloves still inhibit it. 

 

Hux doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.  “You’ll kill her!  Ren, stop!”

 

And that’s the last thing Rey remembers until she wakes.   She doesn’t see Kylo’s hand wave that steals her consciousness and causes her to instantly slump.   She doesn’t know that Kylo catches her up in his arms, her long hair and long dress streaming down, as her eyes fall closed and her face falls slack.  She doesn’t hear Kylo growl possessively to his Chancellor that Rey is his and always has been.  Asleep in the Force, Rey doesn’t hear the stern warning to not interfere in matters of the Force. 

 

Empire Day goes on elsewhere in the Palace for a guest list of nearly two thousand.  But it’s over now for Rey who is swept away in the arms of the Supreme Leader.  The conflicted Dark prince has presided over a Dark day and he craves the Light with an intensity that will not be denied.  It is a visceral need, like a natural physical drive or an urge that must be sated.  Rey has what he needs and he will take it.  Today’s small taste of mercy for the Kuat Senator has only whetted his appetite.  Because like every Dark soul who has ever lived, Kylo Ren wants more.  A little is never enough for the men who wield the Shadow Force.  For the nature of Darkness is extreme.

 


	17. Chapter 17

The need has been building for weeks.  Ever since he gorged himself on Rey’s Light the night he first took her to his grandparents’ apartment.  He promised himself and Rey that he would not risk it again.   That yellow flash in her eyes had been sobering.  Kylo had been playing with fire but didn’t know it.

 

But that had been a reckless assurance.   Because the Light is like a potent drug that is addicting from the very first time.  And experiencing it so pure and intense in Rey’s mind has only made the craving worse.   Add in the last week of wallowing in depression over her latest rejection plus a morning of systematic executions and Kylo is Dark.  Too Dark.  Which, of course, means he is craving the Light.  Craving Rey. 

 

He couldn’t keep his eyes off Rey this morning.   Sitting there looking extremely conspicuous as the only woman on the grandstand.  Her pale blue dress stood out against the backdrop of mostly black uniforms.  Even without the rebel hairdo, all eyes would be on her.  She had looked politely bored until the executions began.  Then, she had looked diminished.  She stared down at her hands, appearing disturbed and uncomfortable.  Like he knew she would.

 

Then tonight, she had walked in on Hux’s arm.  It was galling.  Rey faults him for his Darkness and yet she accepts that snake Hux with nary a complaint.  Kylo had been consumed with jealousy as he watched their arrival together unnoticed from a high balcony.  Arriving holding hands with Hux was worse than her rejection. 

 

Kylo had been incensed.   So angry.  So aggrieved. 

 

Then, as Kylo had been ready to finally end this long day with one last act of violence, Rey had intervened.  She called him out and stared him down in front of hundreds of witnesses.

 

It was perfect.  Light standing up to Darkness, giving him the pushback he needs.

 

It was balance. 

 

In that moment, he forgave her Hux.   He forgave her rejection. He forgave her fear and her doubt.  Because he cannot rage against the Light he needs so much.  Whether she knows it consciously or not, Rey must sense how much he needs her influence tonight.

 

But he can’t do this in front of a pair of praetorians and Hux.  This is not a weakness laypeople will understand and a leader should never appear less than in command.  So, he puts Rey to sleep and steals her away to his quarters just like once he stole her away to Starkiller Base.  Hux may have brought Rey to this party, but he will not leave with her tonight. 

 

That brings him to here.  Now.  Rey is laying on his bed across the room asleep in the Force.  Kylo stands watching her from a distance as he plots his next move. 

 

Look at her.  Rey is beautiful, far more beautiful than she knows.  With slashing brows and wide, high cheekbones that people call good bone structure.  She’s not pretty so much as handsome.  Hers is a beauty that will remain with time.  Kylo doubts appearance was much of a priority for Rey growing up on Jakku. But in the years since, she seems to have got the knack of it. Other women broadcast their attractiveness tonight, with overdone makeup and sexy skin-baring gowns.  But not Rey.  Her allure is muted and subtle, fresh and youthful. But like the Light itself, she draws you in.  It’s a come-hither siren’s call to a Dark soul like his.  The Light has dignity like that.  It beckons and never shouts.  It leads by example rather than forcing its opinion. Never does it compel.  Always, it invites. 

 

Well, tonight he accepts. 

 

Kylo tugs off his mask and yanks off his gloves.  There will be no more physical barriers between their minds.  He shrugs out of his heavy embroidered cloak next.  He’s down to his undertunic, pants, and boots.  It’s just him.  All the trappings of power are gone now. 

 

Kylo walks over to the bed and gazes down at Rey.  Her hair is splayed on the pillow and her dress is in disarray.  She looks so defenseless now. And that gives him pause.  He doesn’t want to scare her but he doesn’t want an argument either. 

 

He will do this gently, he decides.  He settles on the edge of the bed and leans in to wake her with a kiss.  A wave of his hand would suffice, of course, but that’s not how you wake a sleeping beauty of the Light, a warrior princess of the Force.  Rey’s eyes flutter open as he pulls back. 

 

“Don’t be afraid.  You’re safe,” he says immediately.

 

“Where am I?” she worries as she half sits up on her elbows. 

 

“In my quarters.  We’re alone.”   There are no prying eyes to see what they do next. 

 

She looks to him warily.  “You were in my head.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That hurt.”

 

“I’m sorry.”  Not really.  He’s about to do it again.  “You are hard to resist when you look as beautiful as you do tonight.”

 

The compliment has the desired effect.  Rey blushes and flusters.  This scavenger girl is so inured to scorn that she cannot take a compliment.  He uses that to his full advantage.

 

Kylo reaches a hand to raise her ducked chin.  “It’s more than how you look.   It’s who you are.  You are beautiful and the Light shining through you is beautiful too. Thank you for what you did in the throne room.”

 

“You’re not mad?”

 

“No.  I’m grateful you saved me from my own excess.  I need more Light in my Empire.  Give me more Light,” he coos as he goes in for a soft kiss.  “Have mercy on me.”

 

“N-No,” she breathes out as she turns her head.   He sees her eyes flit around his bedroom and register the predicament she is in. “I told you we can’t be together.”   She sits up fully now.   “I need to go—“

 

Not a chance.  “Stay,” he requests as he intercepts her hands and squeezes them.  “Stay with me.”  Take pity on me, he thinks.

 

“Kylo, you need to back off,” she warns.

 

“I just need more Light.  It’s been a Dark day.”

 

She shoots him a look.  “Go be the Light yourself.  Stop trying to use me.  You don’t need me for the Light.  You only need to change yourself.  Heed the call, Kylo,” she urges, giving him a reproachful look.  “I don’t know why you won’t learn that.”  Again, she makes to leave. 

 

Now, he gives up arguing and just goes for it.   Jumping back into her mind. 

 

“Oh!” Rey cries out and stiffens. She sits back down heavily on the bed and raises her hands to her temples. “O-Oh!”

 

“Don’t make it hurt.   Don’t fight me,” he whispers as he gathers her into his arms for what he hopes is a non-threatening hug.  He knows if he scares her, Rey will start to fight in earnest.  “Give me more Light.”  It’s a command and a plea.  An order and a whine.  But he needs this.  He really needs this.

 

“Kylo, no—“

 

“Yes,” he breathes out.  His cheek is pressed against hers now.   “I need this. Show me the Light,” he coos as he pushes firmly, methodically into her mind.  She is trembling now.  Gasping aloud.    

 

But oh, how he needs this. Kylo nestles his mind deeply into hers, glorying in her Light.  For its majesty is grace.  It bestows its favors on the deserving and the undeserving alike.  A Dark sinner like himself gets the same easy forgiveness that a saint gets.  For that is the magnanimity of the Light. 

 

“K-Ky-lo—“  Rey sounds scared now. “K-Kylo, help—"

 

“Shhh.   It will be over soon,” he soothes.  He’s not going to overdo it this time. 

 

She fights him only a few brief moments more before she relents.  “That’s better,” he commends.  They are laying side by side on the bed now, with Rey loosely in his arms.  She feels so soft and she smells so good.  Kylo glories in her physical closeness combined with her mental openness.  This is everything he needs right now.  Some chaste cuddling with Rey while he basks in her Light.  He wishes this could go on forever, but he knows it cannot. 

 

With his mind in hers, he’s only partially aware of what he’s doing.  But he’s partially aware of Rey’s mind too.  It’s a confusing mishmash of inclinations, so he tunes it out and only focuses on the Force.  On her Light. He needs to soak this up while he can.  Kylo is blinded by its munificence.  So much so that he is taken by surprise when Rey becomes the aggressor physically.  Suddenly, her hands tug him closer.  Her hungry mouth finds his.  Their platonic cuddling now becomes a serious make out session at her insistence.  Her hands snake up around his neck and her body arches against him. 

 

Her sudden passion takes him aback.  Kylo may be lusting after her Light but Rey is lusting after his body.  He never expected this after her repeated rejections.   It’s so completely unanticipated that it’s amazing. 

 

“Ben.”  She says the name he longs to hear.  The name she called him in the elevator to Snoke’s throne room.  “Ben, love me,” she commands.  “You said you would love me.”

 

And, wait—did he hear right?

 

Yes, he did.  “Ben, love me,” she commands again as her hands reach for the buttons on his tunic.   Now what had begun as his ploy for the Light quickly enlarges in scope.  Is this really happening?  It is.  And it’s more than he ever hoped for tonight.  He thought he would get up in her mind, but it seems he’s getting up in her body too. He knew that she would come around eventually.  She wasn’t going to play hard to get forever.   But who knew she would do so in such a spectacular fashion?  He definitely didn’t see this coming.

 

Kylo, drunk on Light, high fives the universe.  Because how perfect is this? Sex and the Force combined.  He’ll take whatever she offers him tonight. 

 

Yes, this is perfect.   For this is everything he has ever longed for and it’s happening on the very night his conflicted soul needs this the most.  Today’s body count was particularly high, and that takes a toll.  But here she is, the girl of his dreams eagerly surrendering in his bed.   Flooding his mind with Light as she opens her legs.  His fears that she is teasing him, leading him on only to reject him, fall away fast.  For Rey is a very enthusiastic participant.  She sets the pace and takes the lead.  It’s almost as if he’s just along for the ride to please her.

 

He is speaking words of love, but she is consumed with lust.  Panting and pulling him down into deep, enthralling kisses.  When he slows, she prompts him with a nip on the neck.  He’s trying to seduce her, but she’s already ready to go.  Her hands twisting fabric and ripping buttons in her haste for them to disrobe.  She is fierce tonight like in his raunchiest fantasies. Somehow, he knew she would be.

 

This girl shot first when he found her in the woods, aiming to kill with Han Solo’s second best gun.  He lost his heart the moment she pulled the family heirloom saber from the snow and lit it with a look of impressive determination.  Rey has never done the expected.  Whether she is turning the tables on him in interrogation or storming Snoke’s flagship, he keeps getting this girl wrong.  Tonight is more of the same.  He would never have guessed this outcome.  But he loves that Rey is every bit as impetuous as he is. 

 

He wants to take things slow.  To savor this night and make it romantic.  But Rey refuses to let him.  So, he gives in and gives them both what they want so desperately.  Is he doing this right?   He doesn’t know but she doesn’t seem to care.  And damn, this feels so good.  Why did he wait so long to do this?  Truthfully, he was waiting for the right person.  But he kept waiting . . . and waiting.  That means he is shy about being a virgin at his age.  But all that anxiety was for naught.  Because the issue doesn’t even get discussed.  There is no talking just hard, rutting lust.  If Rey is dissatisfied with his newbie self, she doesn’t show it. 

 

Kylo is deep in her mind and deep in her body.  This is physical and metaphysical at the same time.  No other woman in the universe can give this to him but Rey, the desert prodigy awakened unexpectedly to the Force.

 

Is he hurting her?   This feels rough and raw but she apparently doesn’t mind.  Her fingernails rake down his back and leave marks.  Rey has her eyes closed and her back and neck arched.  There isn’t a lot of finesse, but there is plenty of vigor.  It feels primal.  Dark mates with Light in a torrid ecstasy that is strictly forbidden.  The Supreme Leader of the First Order beds the sole surviving member of the Resistance.  Somewhere in the Force, Luke Skywalker looks on in complete disapproval. And old Master Snoke no doubt would only approve if the night culminates in Rey’s execution. And his mother?   Well, he can only imagine her hot outrage. But who cares?   This is wrong but it feels so right.  He could do this forever. 

 

And, really, it’s like their roles have switched.   She’s the determined aggressor reveling in the moment and he’s the one dazed and overcome by the meaning of it all.  For this is the complete partnership he had in mind when he asked Rey to join him.  They will be the golden couple of the galaxy, breaking all the rules.  And there is no one left to stop them.  The future is theirs.

 

He’s working hard to cross the finish line and Rey meets each thrust with a little animal grunt.  He decides he loves that sound.  But he loves the big finale even more. Kylo collapses heavily on Rey in the aftermath.  “Oh, Gods . . . That was . . . ” he pants. “That was . . .”

 

“Again,” she rasps.  It’s a demand not a request.  “More,” she commands.  “I want more.”  And Kylo wholeheartedly endorses that plan.  Right then and there, he decides he is marrying this girl.  And really, was there any doubt?

 

He pants in the afterglow as she lies in his arms. But it isn’t too long before he is up for round two.  And this is when the evening devolves into something out of a Corellian rap song with explicit lyrics.  Because he’s plunging into her from behind. And then she’s riding his crotch.  Now she’s face down on the bed half smothered by a pillow.  It’s part gymnastics, part sex, part cardio as she pulls his hair and talks dirty to him in the smugglers’ patois of Jakku. 

 

Rey turns out to be a very kinky girl.  In between his whispered endearments, she tells him to fuck her harder.  She’s not shy about getting what she wants, and he aims to deliver.  Because Rey tells him she wants to suck his dick as he flies his TIE Silencer.  She wants to straddle him naked on his throne.  She wants him to strap her naked on the interrogation chair again.  And, yep, that sounds good.  Kylo revels in how completely uninhibited Rey is.  She’s utterly comfortable with her skinny, flat chested body that he finds perfect.   And all the sweaty awkwardness of trying new positions doesn’t phase her.  Rey’s confidence eggs him on to lose all his own self-consciousness about sex.  And practice makes perfect, right?  Yes, he is definitely marrying this girl.  She has beauty, brains, the Force. and the Light plus she’s down for pretty much anything.  When both of them are as exhausted as they are sated, they fall asleep in each other’s arms.  It’s absolutely perfect.  Best Empire Day ever.  He’ll be murdering more convicts tomorrow if it will get him a repeat of tonight. 

 

Kylo wakes the next morning alone.  He knew that would be the case.  Rey always runs from him at critical moments.  His girl raised herself near feral.  She’s not much for people and he knows intense intimacy like last night will terrify her.  But is she embarrassed?   Having second thoughts?  Just feeling awkward about things in the light of day?   Worried about ditching Hux?  No matter.  Kylo will give her all the space she needs. 

 

Happier than he’s been in a long, long time, Kylo rouses from the messy sheets and tromps over to his shower.  Along the way, he trips over Rey’s shoe.  Oww!  That hurt.  He bends to collect a glittery, strappy high heel sandal Rey must have left behind when she made her covert exit.  The discovery makes him smile.  His Jakku Cinderella left behind her slipper.  That’s fine.  Her prince will return it once she cools off and he arrives to make his latest proposal.  Rey has turned him down twice already, but he’s optimistic about this time.  Surely last night means they have a future.  Rey can’t pretend to be indifferent about him any longer.

 

Kylo spends the morning reliving flashbacks of last night.  In the harsh light of day, it seems so dreamlike.  So rapturous.  And wary of how real unreal things can seem thanks to his World Between Worlds experiences, Kylo is very happy Rey left behind her shoe as proof of their wild night of passion.  Still, there’s no way that was a Force vision.  Even with the lights out and his eyes mostly closed and his mind buried deeply in Rey’s Light, Kylo remembers all the details.   He relishes them.   Will Rey be up for a repeat tonight?  He can only hope.

 

Hours later, Kylo hears Rey before he sees her. “Let me see him!” Rey’s voice is shrill and panicked as the doors at the end of his throne room burst open.  A stormtrooper flies through them first, thrown hard by the Force.  Then Rey bursts in with a cadre of stormtroopers and praetorians giving chase.  Per his orders, no one has yet pulled a weapon. But they track her movements closely.  It makes her nervous.

 

“I must see him!” Rey announces in a tone that verges on tears.  But it’s her appearance that has him alarmed.  Rey is bedraggled in the greasy factory coveralls from Dantooine, her hair tied up tight in the trio of hair buns she used to wear, her face a makeup-smudged remnant of last night’s original perfection. To top it all off, Rey is barefoot and wielding the lit lightsaber he gave her.  It’s a lot to take in as she dashes forward, pushing past his assembled guests. Not knowing what to think, everyone shrinks from her approach, especially from the glowing blue sword that buzzes and hums with her every move.  Wary Rey circles about, sword poised to strike as his guards move to surround her.  She’s clearly fearful of attack.

 

Kylo stands to his feet and raises a hand to forestall everyone.  He strives to be especially calm to preempt any trigger-happy guards.  “Stand down!” Kylo commands sternly.  “No one shoots!”  The room is suddenly silent and still.  Kylo removes his mask, a very rare occurrence these days.  Then he steps down from his throne.

 

“Rey,” he beckons her forward quietly.

 

She turns off her sword. Casting a last frantic look over her shoulder, she rushes up to throw herself into his arms.  Rey buries her face in his chest in a childlike posture that is fearful and in need comfort.  It is the furthest thing from her usual fierce confidence.  Now, he’s very unsettled.

 

As he strokes her hair, Rey sputters out words that are intelligible. It’s almost as if she’s speaking in tongues.  But she’s not. Kylo catches a few familiar words and realizes it’s Kittat.  The ancient language of the Sith. It’s the extinct language inscribed on the tombs on Korriban and it’s the text from the Darth Malgus journal fragments found in Vader’s castle.  But it’s not a language you casually pick up.  It gets passed down generation to generation.  From Master to Apprentice.

 

Suddenly, Kylo realizes something is very, very wrong.

 

He thrusts Rey back from him to look at her. And that’s when he sees her yellow, red rimmed eyes.

 

He gasps. “Rey!”  Oh, Gods!  What the fuck has he done? Is this the consequence of his binge on her Light last night?

 

Suddenly, Kylo understands what happened last night much better now.  Whoever he had gone to bed with last night, it wasn’t Rey.  Not his Rey.  This teary, needy girl with the Jakku hair knots and the greasy factory overalls is nothing like the polished confident young Senator who confronted him to halt an execution.  This version of Rey is someone else.  But it all makes sense now.  The naked aggression, the lust for possession, the rush to extremes, the instinct to control.  It was all there last night.  And now, the morning after, he recognizes the familiar flip side of Darkness.  The desperation, the isolation, the despair.  For Darkness empowers but it weakens as well.  Dark power always claims its price.  That’s why Snoke warned to keep Dark power in check.  Because unbridled Darkness ultimately consumes itself.  The near hysterical girl in his arms is proof. 

 

Again, she chants out singsong Kittat.  It sounds like an old formulation of the Code of the Sith with a few words mispronounced.  But she doesn’t seem to know what they mean.

 

“Where did you hear those words?” he demands harshly.  He’s almost afraid to know.  Because the Sith are dead . . . they died out with Vader and Sidious a generation ago.   Or so, everyone thought.

 

“He says them.  I memorized them to ask you what they mean.”

 

“Who says them?”  Where did she meet a Sith?  Suddenly panicked, Kylo shakes her roughly.  “Who says them?”

 

“He’s out there!  He calls to me!  What does it mean?” Rey wails.

 

“Who?  Who calls to you?” Kylo demands.  “Answer me!”

 

Rey starts flailing again as she realizes how public this scene is.

 

“No!” he commands as Rey keeps looking back over her shoulder.  She’s still so spooked about his guards.  “Don’t look at them. Look at me. Who calls to you?  Who taught you those words?”

 

“He’s out there just like you said,” she responds.  “He calls to me to help him.  He needs help, Kylo . . . ”

 

“Who?”

 

“The man in the Unknown Regions.”

 

Of course.  Kylo can feel the blood drain from his face. His hands fall slack and he releases Rey.  He looks away, deeply troubled by this revelation.   “He really is out there . . .”  He’s out there and he is Sith.  Naturally, they couldn’t discover some random benign Jedi Master in exile.  It had to be a Sith.  A power hungry, aggressive Sith.

 

Rey grabs at his arms now, gripping them to get his full attention. She is very agitated. “He calls me daughter, Kylo.  He calls me daughter,” she says excitedly.

 

“Oh, Rey,” he shakes his head at her childish gullibility.  “Don’t believe him.  Never trust a Sith.”

 

She raises those creepy yellow eyes to his, looking crushed.  Those yellow eyes . . . look at what he has done.  Even in his Darkest moments, Kylo himself has never had yellow eyes.  What the Hell does that feel like?  He is wracked by guilt.  Kylo wishes he could take back last night.  But he can’t.

 

“The Unknown Regions can wait,” he decides.  “Right now, we need to focus on you. Rey, you need help. I’ll help you.  I promise.”  He’s never meant any words more. 

 

 

 

END PART ONE

 


	18. Chapter 18--Story Notes to Part One

Hello and thanks for reading.  Here are a few short thoughts about Part One for those who are interested.

 

First, let’s talk about sex.  In the _Fulcrum_ Sith tales ( _Fulcrum, Fifth Wife, Fulcrum Two_ ), sex and the Force combine to be a powerful lure for the Sith.   That means Rey becomes an enabler of sorts.  Kylo can become Darker so long as he can get a hit of Rey’s Light now and then to keep him from going off the deep end into Darkness.  It essentially inhibits the push for balance and allows a Sith to become very Dark.  The goal for Snoke and Kylo is to push as far into the Dark Side as they can without risking cosmic pushback from the Force.  The relationships in those stories are downright predatory, with Sith in obsessive, very dependent, and controlling marriages with their ladies of the Light who are firmly placed on a pedestal.  Rey and Snoke’s Jedi wife Shan become forever trapped (Shan especially so—Snoke won’t even let that poor woman die).  The nature of those toxic relationships is selfish and extreme.   Witness how Kylo panics at the prospect of life without Rey’s Light at the end of _Fulcrum_ , to tragic consequences.  Anyhow, the problem with this idea is that it quickly confuses sex with love.  The Sith loves the Light so he automatically loves the girl with the Light, right?  Er, well, maybe.   It muddies up a relationship considerably. 

 

But I’m all about balance these days.  And so this time around, having Kylo lean on Rey’s Light has consequences.  Kylo gets the benefits of her Light but Rey bears the consequences of his Darkness.   She rubs off on him and he rubs off on her.  It’s a big twist to my usual schtick. I think it’s fitting since Kylo and Rey are equals in the Force as marvelously demonstrated by that lightsaber tussle in _Last Jedi_.  The concept also fits with that Yoda quote about being careful when you look at the Dark Side because the Dark Side looks back. 

 

Does this concept present a new danger to Reylo?  I prefer to think of it as presenting a new opportunity.  Because lest you worry that Kylo has just screwed up bigtime and fucked the Dark Side into Rey (and you thought the worst thing that could happen was pregnancy or an STD, right??), consider that this could be a step towards balance.  To my knowledge, only one person has ever achieved something approaching balance in the Force.  His name was Revan and he was a Jedi before he was a Sith before he became a sort-of-Jedi again.  Revan could wield both the Light and the Dark Side of the Force.  But he didn’t set out to do so.  Revan got there by happenstance through a life story that defies easy summation.  Like so many discoveries, Revan’s neat trick was an accident.  He himself didn’t fully recognize what he was capable of. 

 

In her new Dark guise, Rey hears the call of the Sith No One Knew Existed.  (Read the caps, folks)   Why Rey and not Kylo?  Because she is a Light Side girl vulnerable to and compassionate for Darkness.  That’s her whole pull to Kylo. And that’s exactly why our hidden Sith villain will call to Rey for help. 

 

The concept of some mysterious powerful Dark Sider hidden in the Unknown Regions is current canon—I’m not making this up.  Palpatine did have observatories on Jakku and other Rim worlds searching for this mysterious figure.  Is this Snoke?   Perhaps episode 9 will answer the question.  Readers of my tales know that my Snoke is usually the immortal Darth Plagueis, master to Sidious who was “killed” right before Sidious became Senate Chancellor.  Kylo “kills” Plagueis/Snoke again to complete his training.  My Plagueis is the badass of the Dark Side, a man immensely powerful but with a soft spot for his Skywalker family he created in the Force. 

 

I have a slightly different take this time around, inspired by the old rumored title for Episode 7: The Ancient Fear. In the religion heavy tale _Son of Darkness_ , I used that same inspiration to make Snoke the ancient Prime Jedi turned original Sith, a sort of fallen angel of the Light hellbent on a reformation of the Force back to the original Jedi Order (the First Jedi Order, or “First Order”).    This time around I have a different explanation for the sneaky Sith.  Not sure how I will get there or if I can pull it off, but we’ll see.  If it all comes together like I hope and manages to stay interesting along the way, I’ll impress myself.

 

The Empire Day holiday is taken from the EU canon.  Empire Day also appears in _The Chosen One_ , only Rey is a condemned prisoner presented for execution and not a spectator.   

 

This story has lots of Hux.  Hux is usually a snarky foil to Kylo and a sometime wannabe usurper.  But those portrayals tend to be very one dimensional.   There is more to this guy.    I prefer Hux as a fleshed-out character. He is best in the ill-fated Hux-Rey-Kylo love triangle of _Ghosts of the Past_.   This time around Hux is conceived a bit differently, but the core aspects of the character remain.  He’s more wit and less tragedy in this fic.  I like to think that aspects of this Hux are very Cesi Flick from _Ghosts/The Chosen One_. 

 

At the outset of this story, Rey is ignoring the hero’s call. She’s turned her back on her cause and the Force. She’s discouraged by the defeat of the Republic/Resistance.  But by the end of Part One, Rey is on board with her Senator job and once again dabbling in the Force.  She’s come a long way thanks to Kylo’s prodding.  I think of Rey as the Star Wars version of the young American Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.  Committed and passionate, but out of the mainstream of prevailing politics.  Inexperienced and endearingly young, too.  Someone you kinda can’t help but like even if you disagree with her. 

 

It’s typical in my stories for Kylo to push for Rey to learn the Force.  Kylo is always very devout and committed to the Force. He always wants to teach Rey, with mixed results.  He’ll be doing that here too.  

 

The story of what happened at Luke’s temple changes in my various tales.  I think this explanation—Luke attacks Kylo and Kylo reacts with a big Dark Side move that inadvertently kills people—is the most likely truth.  I love the idea of good Jedi Padawan Ben Solo unwittingly tapping into his latent (and enormous) Dark potential that clueless Ben never knew he had (but Luke saw and feared all along and kept secret from Ben).  This is my new favorite explanation of the temple massacre: lots of people died due to Ben Solo but it was an accident.  Of course, Luke doesn’t see it that way—he thinks Ben did it all on purpose.  And Ben’s subsequent actions as Snoke’s Apprentice would support that claim.  But, in truth, that’s not precisely what happened.

 

I do love the Dark Luke explanation from _Son of Darkness_ with Luke slaughtering his own students and Ben Solo bravely saving himself and a few other students who later become the Knights of Ren.  But people hated that version—I got a lot of angry PMs about Dark Luke.  I guess I went too far.  I do that—so be warned.  Blueenvelopes fics are not crowd pleasers.  No wish fulfillment plots here.  Read at your own risk.  I can offend people who have strong opinions about Star Wars.  Nothing is sacrosanct here.

 

If there is a prevalent theme to this story, it’s that we are not who we appear.  The title ‘Versions of You’ refers to the complex nature of our characters.  It also refers to the World Between Worlds that reveals different realities of the Skywalker clan.  Under different circumstances, people make different choices and become different people.  Each time Kylo goes back to the World Between Worlds he sees a different version of his family.  It’s like fate reshuffles the cards.  I like the idea that the Skywalkers can turn out Dark or Light in alternative realities, Kylo included.  For that is the nature of the Chosen Ones—they have equal capacity for good and bad.  More to come on that, including appearances by Leia.  But keep in mind the idea that reality can be hard to ascertain.  You’ll see that again.  We are not who we appear.  (See, e.g. Luke Skywalker at Crait)

 

For the record, the World Between Worlds is canon—again, I’m not making it up.  It appeared first in the _Rebels_ cartoon and there are some references to it (or something like it) in some new Vader comic books. I’ll be honest, I thought the World Between Worlds was a cheesy gimmick initially.   Just Dave Filoni’s way to keep the Ahsoka Tano character alive.  I also worried about introducing quasi-time travel concepts into Star Wars.  But I have warmed to the idea because it’s such a convenient way to write juicy alternative universe versions of the Skywalkers.  As any reader of my fics will attest, I love Skywalker family drama.  I live for those chapters, if only for the bizarre bickering that is terribly fun to write.   As a writer, I can go crazy in the World Between Worlds, and that’s fun. 

 

This story has a lot of fluff.  As much fluff as the beginning of _Ghosts_ when Kylo and Rey are “dating” on Jakku under the radar of everyone. I’m sure some of my readers kept wondering ‘is this really a blueenvelopes fic?  Because no one has died yet?’   But I’m writing this to escape my reality and so silly fluff is in order.  My life is currently very serious.  Too serious. Just yesterday I told Mr. Blue that when we get through our current life crisis, I want to have fun again and to feel young again.   I really meant those words.  

 

I’m going to go quiet for a bit as I think through Part Two.  I only have a vague idea of where this story is going.  No worries because that is the usual case with all my stories except _Fulcrum_ and _DARKER_ , which were very intentionally plotted out (the last part of _DARKER_ is likely the best edited, most concise writing I have ever pulled off—that plot really moves at the end so suffer through the first bit because it’s really a good fic.). 

 

There is a lot going on in my life currently.  These last seven weeks have been brutal.   Mr. Blue is on the mend but he has months of recovery and rehab on his leg ahead of him, so we have reached a temporary new normal.  I wish I had never heard the words ‘Ilizarov frame’ but that’s life.  He’s coping and I’m coping but it’s not pretty some days.  Every task is my task now, including a lot of tasks Mr. Blue used to do for himself.  I’m tired, readers.  Schlepping wheelchairs and electric scooters and walkers in and out of cars, to and from work, doctors appointments, and physical therapy and through airports, gets old.  But I still have months of this ahead of me.  The good news is that I write for stress release.  So stay tuned.  Plenty of stress here.  Thanks for reading.


	19. Chapter 19

Rey wakes to the smell of bacon. Wait—bacon?   Yep.  Caf too.  She looks around and recognizes she’s in her bedroom in the apartment she borrows from Kylo.  She’s alone in bed.  It’s a morning like any other morning.  Except she’s wearing her old droid factory uniform and there’s a medic droid standing idle across the room.  Wait—what? 

 

Rey gets up. 

 

She follows her nose to the kitchen and finds Kylo there cooking.  He looks up as she enters.  “Good morning.”

 

“Morning,” she croaks out as she takes in the improbable scene of Kylo Ren standing in a t-shirt and pants in her kitchen cooking breakfast.

 

She must look as perplexed as she feels because Kylo explains, “I saw you were finally stirring so I started breakfast.” He puts down his spatula and walks over to peer at her. 

 

She knows what he’s looking at. “Still yellow?”

 

“Yes.”  He frowns and looks disappointed.  “I was hoping it would wear off while you slept.”

 

“Is that how it works?”

 

“I don’t know,” he admits.  He wanders back to his fry pan.  “Go take a shower,” he tells her with an easy  smile.  “This will be ready when you’re done.”

 

She looks around the kitchen and spots Kylo’s comlink, several datapads, a few empty water bottles, and a bunch of datafiles strewn across her kitchen table.  His sword is on the counter, too.  Plus, it looks like his uniform is draped over a kitchen chair. 

 

“You’ve made yourself at home,” Rey observes sourly.  “How long was I asleep?”

 

“Three days.”

 

“Three days??”

 

“Yes.  I only gave you light Force sleep.  But I wanted you to wake up naturally.  So, I waited.”

 

That answer infuriates Rey.  “Stop messing with my head!” she explodes.  “That’s what caused this in the first place!”

 

He turns to give her a serious look.  “You were hysterical.  I couldn’t get you to calm down.  Rey, I was worried what you might do with those yellow eyes if you had a total meltdown.”

 

Yeah, sure, maybe he thought it was for her own good.  But Rey is still incensed at this characterization.  “I was hysterical?!   Maybe I was pissed at you for this!  I have a right to be angry!”  In fact, she is terribly angry.  Angry like she has never felt before in her life.  Angry at him.  Angry at herself.  Angry at the universe in general.  “I am so angry!” she bellows and stomps her foot even though it’s childish.  

 

Kylo gives her a look of complete empathy. “I know.  Go take a shower. You’ll feel a little better.”

 

Shooting him a dirty look, Rey complies.  Ten minutes later she is showered and changed and sitting down barefoot with wet hair to Kylo’s homecooked breakfast. 

 

“I’m not hungry,” she announces haughtily, turning her nose up at the food.  She’s in a bad mood and not bothering to hide it.

 

“I’m hungry,” Kylo replies easily as he starts to eat.  

 

And well, it does smell good.  Plus, Rey has been asleep for days.  She’s woken up hungry despite her churlishness.  So, she begins poking at the food notwithstanding her declaration to the contrary. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

 

“I don’t.  This is the only thing I can cook. When I was at Luke’s Temple, I was assigned to breakfast duty.  We only had a few droids so we cooked for ourselves.  If you had woken up at lunch or dinner, I would have still cooked you breakfast,” Kylo admits sheepishly.  Then he flashes that half-smirk, half-smile she loves.  But today it doesn’t charm her.   She’s not in the mood.

 

“What’s the medic droid doing in my room?” she demands.

 

“Monitoring you.  It gave you an exam initially.  I wanted to be sure those yellow eyes weren’t some actual health condition.  You know, hepatitis or something.  And here I would be worried about your Force when really I should be worried about your liver.”

 

“Seriously?” she complains.

 

“Yes.  Seriously.  But as it turns out, you are perfectly healthy.”

 

“Well, I guess there’s that good news,” she grumbles.

 

A long silence falls now as Rey struggles to find a way to discuss the bantha in the room.  Is Kylo waiting for her to bring it up?  Because she doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up.  She’s not sophisticated about sex.  She doesn’t know how these morning after conversations go, especially when they are four days overdue.  Rey thought the worst thing that could happen from sex would be pregnancy or some sort of icky venereal disease.  Not the yellow eyes of the Dark Side.  She eyes Kylo resentfully now.  How could she have been so stupid?  As the old saying goes—you lay down with dogs and you get fleas.  Rey knew she needed to stay away from this guy.  But for all their conversations to that effect, look what happened anyway.

 

“So . . . uh . . . we . . . uh . . . ” Rey can feel her face flame.   She can’t begin to say the words out loud.  Because what she thinks she remembers of their night together is torrid and wild.  Like crazy holonet porn wild.  She looks down in humiliation.   What must he think of her now?

 

Reading her awkwardness, Kylo jumps in.  “Yeah.  Yeah, we did.”  He saves her from saying the actual words.

 

“Uh . . .   I’d never done that before,” she confesses softly.   She wants him to know she’s not that kind of girl.  Not normally, anyway. 

 

“Me neither,” he leans forward to confide before he takes another forkful of eggs.

 

“Really?”   She’s surprised.  And relieved.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you sure?”  Because she remembers a man with skills who drove her wild with pleasure.  If that had been a first attempt, then what will he be capable of after a little practice?

 

For his part, Kylo stiffens at her skepticism.  “Of course, I’m sure.   Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s kind of nice like that,” Kylo approves thoughtfully, and Rey exhales as some of the awkwardness goes out of the room.  They can talk about this . . . a little, at least.  In vague statements and euphemisms.

 

Kylo gives her a conspiratorial look now. “It was great.  You were great.”

 

She frowns.  That’s not the point.  “Yeah, it was great up until the point when I woke up with yellow eyes.”

 

“Does that mean we can’t—“

 

“No.  We can’t!  We can't ever again!”  Rey shuts that down immediately.  It was a one-night thing, that’s all.  “Never again!” she screeches to hammer home the point.  If she could take that night back, she would.

 

“I’m not sure us sleeping together was what did it,” Kylo muses.  “I think it was my being in your mind. Not me being in your . . . your . . . uh . . .”

 

“You’ve got the wrong idea!” Rey announces, inexplicably feeling close to tears.   Talking about this was a bad idea, she realizes in hindsight.  “I’m not that kind of girl!” 

 

“I know that,” he assures her seriously.  “You’re my girl now.”

 

Rey puts down her fork and looks away.  “I told you—we can’t be together.  Nothing has changed.”

 

“Yes, it has.  You’re my girl,” Kylo digs in.   “Maybe we should get married now.  What do you think?” he floats an offer.

 

Her jaw drops.  “Are you serious?”  She’s annoyed.  Very annoyed.

 

“Sure,” he shrugs.  “Why not?  Let’s do it.”

 

“You win for worst proposal ever,” Rey hisses back.  “Bad delivery.  Bad timing.  Bad everything,” she says, sounding very harsh.  “Like I said, don’t be expecting a repeat.  I’ve learned my lesson.  That was a one-time thing.”  Her voice cracks a little at that last bit.  This morning, she has a hair trigger for tears or for rage.  Either outcome is equally likely.  That’s how desperate and stressed Rey feels.

 

“You don’t catch the Dark Side like a disease,” he complains gently. “That’s not how the Force works.”

 

“Then how do you explain this?” Rey demands hotly as she jabs a pointing finger towards her yellow eyes.  This Darkness is just so unsettling.  She can’t handle it.  It’s not her.  And yet, when she looks in the mirror, it is.  How did this happen??

 

“I can’t explain that.  But the Force works in mysterious—“

 

“Fix this!  You did this!   This is your fault!” she screams at him.   Rey punctuates the last bit by pounding her fist on the table.  It makes the dishes jump and rattle. 

 

“Okay, okay,” he talks her down.  It’s irritating how accepting and placating Kylo is now.  It’s like it’s impossible to get in an argument with him.  And that is obviously a very intentional strategy on his part.  Kylo Ren is not a man known for his restraint.   

 

“I’ve been thinking while you slept.  I’ve got three ideas for how to fix this,” Kylo tells her.  “Let’s start with the easy one.”

 

“Alright.  What do we do?”

 

“I can’t believe I get to say this—“

 

“Get on with it!” she bellows.

 

“Ok, here goes.”  Kylo takes a deep breath and intones as if from on high, “I feel the conflict within you—“

 

“There is no conflict!” she wails back miserably.  “I’m an evil Sith now.”

 

“Nonsense,” he dismisses her concern. “Let go of your hate,” he says in the same determined voice. 

 

His saintly expression pisses her off. “Fuck you!   I do hate you!  I’m going to kill you for this!” she rages. 

 

“Relax, Rey.   Find peace and calm—“

 

“Fuck your peace and calm!” Rey hollers as she gestures dismissively toward him.  Somehow, the gesture lets loose a quick bolt of Force lightning from her manicured fingertips.  It sends Kylo sitting opposite her head over heels backwards in his chair. 

 

Rey yelps in shock. 

 

So does Kylo.  “Owwww!”

 

As he picks himself and the chair up off the floor, he exhales, “Damn, girl!  That that was Snoke-worthy. You must have some latent Dark tendencies.  Either that, or you are the Mary Sue of the Sith.” 

 

Stunned, horrified Rey is gaping and speechless as she watches him mop up the caf that has spilled from her latest Dark outburst.

 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, red-faced as she stares at her innocuous looking fingertips. 

 

“You’re sort of a Mary Sue as a Jedi too, come to think of it,” Kylo gripes.  “You know, most people train years for this sort of thing.  They don’t do it by accident.  Well, I guess I did at the Temple . . . ”

 

“I’m Snoke now,” she dissolves into tears.

 

“No.  Not even close,” Kylo corrects her.  “You’re way too pretty. And shorter.  Much shorter. Plus, I would never go to bed with Snoke.”

 

“I’m Snoke!” she sobs some more.

 

“Snoke had blue eyes.  I never saw him with yellow eyes.”

 

That clarification just makes Rey cry harder.  Because she has out-Sithed Snoke, it seems.

 

“Well, uh.  Welcome to the Dark Side,” Kylo grimaces over at her tears.  “It’s kind of emotional as . . . uh . . . I guess you realize now.  But you’re supposed to be angry not sad—“

 

“Oh, I’m angry,” she hiccups.

 

“But you’re crying.”

 

“I cry when I’m angry,” she sniffs.

 

“Is this a girl thing?”

 

Rey wipes at her eyes.  “Just fix this!  Do what you said might work.”

 

“I did already.”

 

“What??”

 

“Well, it worked for Luke Skywalker,” he says defensively.

 

Rey shoots to her feet.  “’Let go of your hate?’  That was it??  That didn’t work for you when I tried it, why should it work for me?”

 

“It worked for Vader,” Kylo tells her reverently.

 

“I’m no Vader.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.  I see that.  You’re way too pretty.  And shorter.  Much shorter. I would never have gone to bed with—“

 

“Shut up!   Try the second thing,” Rey commands as she sits back down. 

 

“Okay,” Kylo takes the cue.  “Well, if you got the Darkness from my mind, maybe you could get in my head and get some Light from my mind this time.  That way, I’ll get the Darkness from you.   Don’t worry, I can handle it,” he tells her gruffly as he lifts his chin and takes on a pose of heroic sacrifice. 

 

“No.”

 

“It’s worth a shot.”

 

“No.  You are not fucking with my mind again.  Ever,” she decrees. “Besides, when did you become some bastion of the Light?”

 

“I’m conflicted.  Remember?”

 

“What’s your other idea?”  Rey is ready to move on.

 

“Okay,” Kylo again takes the cue.  “It’s more of a longer-term solution.”

 

“What does that mean?” she snaps impatiently.  “Spit it out!”

 

“Come.”  He invites her to stand and to follow him.  Kylo leads her into the main living area of the apartment.  There are five large crates lying about the room, each marked with the old Imperial insignia.  Only one of them is open.

 

“What’s all this?   Hey, those are my books,” Rey spots the sacred Jedi texts she stole from Luke Skywalker that Kylo later stole from her.  They are piled on a small table nearby.

 

Kylo nods and gestures around.  “These artifacts are all that remain of the tradition of the Light Side.  Luke’s books and Vader’s holochrons, plus what I learned as a Padawan.”

 

Rey has no idea what a holochron is, but she’s getting the gist of the suggestion.  “You want to study the Light?” she surmises.

 

“Yes.”  Suddenly, Kylo looks excited.  “I’ve been rethinking my grandfather some.  Wondering if I should focus more on what he did as a Jedi than what he did as a Sith.  So, I moved all this to Coruscant to learn it.   That was before you went Darth, actually.  But now, there’s even more of a reason to learn it.  Rey,” he looks her in the eye and offers, “We can learn it together.  I’ll help you.”

 

“I’m supposed to take Jedi training from you?” she scoffs.

 

“No.  From this.”  Kylo walks over to the open crate and selects an item.  It is carefully wrapped to avoid damage in transit, so he has to unwind it from a skein of gauze. Nestled inside is a blue cube ornately trimmed in gold.  It glows faintly in his hand.  He hands it to Rey.

 

“What is it?  It’s beautiful,” Rey breathes out as she cups it in her hands.  She can sense the small object’s power in the Force.  Whatever this little thing does, it’s important.  And old.

 

“That’s a holochron.  It contains recorded Jedi teaching.  My grandfather collected them from temples all across the galaxy.   Vader must have hidden them from his Master.  They were stored at his castle.”

 

“Really?”  Rey is surprised.  “So a Sith safeguarded what remains of the Jedi heritage?  How ironic,” she smirks.

 

“No, not really,” Kylo explains looking very sincere.  “Darth Vader was no ordinary Sith.  He was the original Chosen One.  I think he wanted all of the power--the Light and the Dark.   When the Republic fell, he and Darth Sidious wiped out the Jedi Order.   But Vader didn't reject all of their teachings. He had all sorts of Jedi things squirreled away.  Think about it,” Kylo contends.  “Vader destroyed all the Jedi practitioners but he kept the Jedi stuff.  He wanted the knowledge for himself.  Just think,” Kylo marvels, looking every bit the Force nerd he is, “in the end, these holochrons could be the most important legacy of Darth Vader.  Maybe even more important than the Empire.”

 

“How many are there?” Rey wants to know. 

 

“Over a hundred.”  

 

“Did Luke know about this?”

 

“No.  But my uncle had his chance,” Kylo gripes.  “I’m starting to think that Vader wanted to teach Luke all he knew as a Jedi and as a Sith.  So that they could rule the galaxy as father and son, masters of both the Light and the Dark.  But Luke Skywalker was a fool and turned him down.”

 

Whatever.  Rey is much less concerned with Skywalker history than Kylo is.  “So what’s in the cubes?” she asks.  

 

“It varies,” he responds.  “Much of the collection focuses on Force techniques to heal.”  And that makes a certain sense.  For maimed and fragile Lord Vader must have been looking for secrets to heal, Rey figures.  “The rest focus on combat techniques.  Lightsaber forms, battle trances, that sort of thing. There’s a few on treaty negotiation strategies and Jedi history.  And there’s even one my grandfather made when he was still a Jedi.”

 

 “Have you watched them all?”  Rey asks.  

 

 “No.  I haven't watched any of them,” Kylo admits.  “Vader catalogued the collection.  That's how I know what they contain.” 

 

“Oh.  So how does this help me?” Rey wants to know.  Because this history lesson is nice and all, but she’s still got yellow eyes to deal with.

 

“I’m hoping that learning the Light will coax out the Light in you.  You said it yourself—that I should look for the Light inside me rather than trying to use your Light.  Well, we can both look for the Light in ourselves now.”

 

“Oh.  Okay,” Rey sighs unenthusiastically.  “I guess it’s worth a try.”  She peers down at the pretty little cube.  “How does this thing work exactly?”

 

Kylo looks like a mischievous little boy now.  “Ready Padawan?”

 

Rey shoots him a sour look.  “You’re not my Master.  Don’t start with all that ‘you need a teacher’ stuff again.”

 

“Okay, but if you really are Sith,” Kylo smirks, “no Order 66-ing me.”

 

“Yeah, okay. But no killing me in my sleep Skywalker style,” she retorts.

 

“It’s a deal.”  Kylo begins his instruction now.  “You open a holochron with your mind through the Force.  To laypeople, holochrons just look like fancy objects.  But their real secrets lie within and only Force users can access them.  Go on,” he urges her.  “Stretch out your feelings.  Seek calm.  Find peace.”

 

“You do it first,” Rey hands back the cube she’s holding.  “I’m not feeling calm or peaceful.”

 

“I don't know if I can open it either,” Kylo admits sheepishly.  “It’s been years since I connected with the Light Side.  But I’ll try.”

 

Gamely, he closes his eyes and Rey senses him summon the Force.  But then he swears under his breath and has to focus again quickly.  She can see how hard this is for him.  Beads of sweat appear on his forehead but Kylo keeps after it.  And after a minute or two, he has success.  Slowly, the little cube rises out of his hand, shaking a bit as it goes.  And then suddenly it splits into component parts, all hovering overhead. 

 

“Oh, great. You broke it!” she accuses.  “Great move, Jedi Master Ren!”

 

“It’s supposed to do that.” Kylo is exasperated but trying not to show it.

 

“Oh.  Of course.  I knew that.” Chastised Rey flushes.

 

He glares at her.  “You made me lose my concentration!  Do you know how hard that was for me?”  His face is sweaty and his manner is very annoyed.  “I was so close, Rey!  So close until you ruined it!”

 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, looking down at the little cube that has magically reconstructed itself to rest on the floor, its secrets safely locked away inside.    “So you have to connect with the Light in order to learn the Light,” she understands now.  “That’s why you think this will help us both.  This could give us both balance?” she wonders aloud.

 

“I hope so,” Kylo answers.  “Because I don’t have any other ideas.”  He’s clearly trying hard to help.  Cooking her breakfast and trying to solve her problem.  Maybe even signaling that he will take care of her with that ridiculous comment about marriage.  Rey knows she should be appreciative, but she can’t be.  She doesn’t have it in her right now.  She’s scared.  Really scared for her future.

 

Rey swallows hard.  Again, she feels on the brink of rage or tears.  She looks to Kylo, suddenly understanding him better now.  “I guess you feel this way all the time, huh?”

 

“Basically,” he shrugs. “But I have had years to learn to manage it.  You grow into Darkness as a general rule.  All except you.  I suppose you were awakened to the Dark like you were awakened to the Light,” he posits.  “All of a sudden.”

 

“Do you think I could be stuck forever like this?” Rey verbalizes her worst fear.

 

“No, no I don’t,” Kylo answers quickly.  “Snoke used to say that Darkness is a choice. And you didn’t choose this.”

 

“Maybe I did,” Rey confesses softly, remembering losing herself in the tempting Dark fantasy of it all.  Only, it hadn’t been fantasy, it had been real.  But maybe that is the nature of the Dark Side.  It disguises its true nature so you can delude yourself without even realizing it. 

 

Kylo looks alarmed at her confusion.  “Rey,” he tells her as he steps forward.  “You are not Dark.  This is temporary.  It’s not who you are.  Your true nature will win out in the end.  We just need to give it time.”  For a moment, Rey thinks Kylo will go in for an embrace.  But he thinks better of it.  Probably in light of her earlier lightning strike.   “Here,” he stuffs the holochron cube back into her palm. “Give it a try yourself.”

 

Encouraged, Rey sits down in a chair and tries to quiet her mind to summon the Force.

 

“Good.  Good,” Kylo cheerleads at her side.  “Don’t focus on the cube, focus on the Force.  Drift in the Force.  Take your time.”

 

She does, but it’s hard.  Usually, when Rey uses the Force it is like a reflex or an instinct.  It’s an unthinking, almost accidental task.  She’s never spent much time intentionally focusing on the Force in the abstract.  That’s a learned discipline for a trained Force user, not a slapdash novice like herself. 

 

The Force is like the rest of Rey’s skills.  She’s the girl with no schooling who watched other mechanics and scavengers to learn her trade.  She took things apart and put them back together again to master them.  Young Rey also copied the accent, vocabulary, and manners of aspirational figures she watched on the holonet.  That’s how she earned her near perfect Coruscant inflection and learned basic social interactions.  And once she met Kylo using the Force against her, Rey mimicked it right back at him.  Her Force skills are like all her talents.  They are improvised and cribbed from others who learned the right way with years of proper tutelage.  But Rey skips past all that.  She has an intuitive, ad hoc approach that is quintessentially her.  But it means that moments like this expose her for the loser wannabe she is.

 

But here goes.  Rey pushes aside those negative thoughts to try her best.  With a deep breath, Rey collects herself and strives to find the Force like she had on Ahch-To with Luke.  To sense the entirety of the thing:  the Light and the Dark.  Luke had explained this tension as balance, with powerful Light equaling powerful Darkness.  Snoke had said much the same thing in his throne room.  How strange that the two men taught the same ideas but held such very different values.  

 

Is balance a harmony or a dissonance?  A conflict or an equilibrium?   Rey can’t help but think that if the Force is the energy field that binds the universe together, then balance must be achievable.  For herself, at least, if not for the larger cosmos.  Please, she silently prays to the Force, show me the answers.  I don’t want to be Sith.  I hate these yellow eyes.  I hate how they make me feel.  Give me balance.

 

And now again, Rey feels cold.

 

Cold like on the island when Luke had screamed at her to resist.

 

Cold like when she awoke suddenly in Kylo’s bedroom to realize where she was and what she had done.

 

“It’s calling to me.”  She says the words aloud.  “It’s calling to me.”  She can hear the panic in her tone.

 

“Rey??” It’s Kylo’s worried voice close at her side.

 

And now again, Rey hears the call of the unknown being from the Unknown Regions.   This is what Luke had faulted her for on his island, accusing her of going straight to the Dark. It offered something you needed, the Jedi Master had judged harshly, and you didn’t even try to stop yourself.  And yes, she needs this.  Rey unabashedly needs this.   Some small part of her thrills when the disembodied male voice echoes through her mind.  It says words that she longs to hear even if she knows they are lies.

 

_Daughter, hear me.  Daughter, help me.  You are my only hope._

Rey would love to believe that she’s not a nobody from nowhere.  She would love for her family to be alive to claim her for their own.  Kylo was right that she can’t stop needing her loser parents who threw her away like garbage.  Years later, that revelation still stings.  But even knowing the bitter truth doesn’t help.  Because when this mysterious paternal sounding Sith calls her daughter, it feels so good.  It feels like truth.

 

_Daughter, hear me.  Daughter, help me.  You are my only hope._

_Do not be afraid._

“Rey??”  It’s Kylo gripping her hand.  She blinks and loses her concentration completely now.  “Rey, are you okay?  You were really deep in the Force.”

 

“I’m fine.” She looks down, still so distracted by the voice in her head.  Has Darkness been calling to her all along?  Giving her visions first with Vader’s lightsaber and later with his helmet?   Drawing her down into the cave on Ahch-To?  Maybe even drawing her to Kylo himself?  Perhaps Snoke was wrong and she doesn’t have the spirit of a true Jedi and instead she has the Dark soul of an authentic Sith.   Maybe her yellow eyes are just a coincidence with Kylo’s push into her mind.  Should she be blaming herself instead of blaming him?   Rey is so, so confused. 

 

Looking down, she remembers the holochron she supposed to be trying to open.  “I can’t open it.  I’ll have to keep trying,” she says half-heartedly.

 

“I will keep trying too,” Kylo promises.  “Together, we will figure it out.  It’s bound to work in time.  We are certainly powerful enough,” he theorizes.  “We just don’t think enough like Jedi, I guess.”

 

“Yeah . . .” Rey looks away, again remembering the mysterious voice.  She knows instinctively that was not a Jedi talking.

 

“Just striving for the Light will help,” Kylo says staunchly.  “You’ll see.”

 

“I don’t hear its call,” Rey admits softly.  “I only hear the call to Darkness.”  She looks to Kylo and asks the unthinkable:  “What if my destiny is Darkness?”  She’s trembling now at the very thought.  For never would she have imagined that a realistic possibility.

 

Kylo doesn’t miss a beat.  “Don’t say that,” he chides.  “We will get through this.  Together.  Rey, you’re not alone in this or in anything else.”   It’s a sweet statement of loyalty.  Now, Rey feels terrible for berating and blaming Kylo for her predicament.  He’s only trying to help.  And he’s trying so, so hard.  This is the nice guy version of him.

 

“Will you stay here with me?” she requests impulsively.  “I don’t want to be alone.”  Somehow, she knows she should not be alone in her current state.

 

“I’ve been living here for three days in the extra bedroom,” Kylo reveals.  “Is now a good time to admit that I have drank half your water bottle stash?”

 

“You did not!”  


“Pretty much.  And there are four praetorians on the terrace just FYI and two by the front door.  So don’t let them spook you.”

 

“Wait—am I under arrest??” she blinks.

 

“You are a power hungry Sith,” he teases.  “Plotting to steal my Empire yet, Rey?”

 

“I’m not the Sith you need to worry about,” Rey says, remembering the voice in her head.

 

“Relax.  The guards are here to keep people out, not keep you in,” Kylo soothes.  “You are free to come and go as always.  In fact, I think you should go back to work.  Go write some feel-good Light Side legislation and make a grand speech about it.  It will do you good.  Go crazy, Rey, and I’ll make sure it becomes law.  Then, we’ll both get some Light out of it.”   

 

Kylo flashes that half-smirk, half-smile she loves again.  This time, she’s charmed.

 


	20. Chapter 20

What are the odds?  He finds a girl with the Force—lots of Force.  She has destiny written all over her, too.  From her bizarre rare awakening to her humble desert origins.  Rey found a droid in the desert, for Gods’ sake, and it led her into the center of a galactic civil war.  It was Luke Skywalker all over again.  Only this newbie with the Force didn’t have an old wizard conveniently stashed close by.  She had to go in search of her Jedi Master.  And that’s when things started to go off script, Kylo thinks glumly.

 

Luke sent her away, so idealistic Rey decided to be Luke Skywalker herself.   Intrigued by their Force bond interactions and their undeniable personal connection, she showed up at the _Supremacy_ hellbent on saving his soul.  In the end, he did the saving and Rey survived her own execution. Snoke was dead. The war was grinding to its inevitable end.  Months later, it was done.  He ruled the galaxy unopposed and Rey wandered off to obscurity on Dantooine. 

 

That wasn’t the way things were supposed to end. 

 

Darkness rose.  Light rose to meet it.  And then . . . the Light walked away.  Rey abandoned the Force and the fight.  Much like Luke Skywalker before her.  It was a very unsatisfying conclusion to his bizarre relationship with the girl from Jakku.

 

So, after taking some time to build his Empire and a cooling off period for Rey, Kylo dragged her back into his life.  She was to be the champion of the Light in his Senate and his secret friend and confidante like she once had been over the Force bond.  But that’s all gone to Hell.  Because now Rey’s got yellow eyes and she’s grouchier than a hungry Hutt and shooting lightning at him over breakfast.   And he’s back at being his much younger self, struggling to find the Light and attempting to learn the Jedi tradition.  It’s like he’s come full circle.  Like he and Rey have swapped roles.

 

And that makes Kylo question what the purpose of it all is.  Because he was the guy who wanted to let the past die. And here he is, dragging out decades old Jedi relics from his grandfather’s castle desperately searching for wisdom from the past.  Can you recreate the best of the past without dredging up all the bad stuff better left behind?   Is he unwittingly recreating the cycle of Jedi-Sith conflict that he himself has been victimized by?   Once, Kylo was determined to move past all that.  But here he is, going back to it.   What they say is true, he scowls:  the past repeats itself.

 

But in this case, the reason is clear.  He and Rey have no idea what they are doing.  Each of them is fumbling around blindly trying to cope with their situation.  There are no wise old grey hairs left alive to advise and teach them.  They are adrift and alone, save for each other.  

 

Somewhere in the Force, Snoke is laughing at him.  Luke Skywalker is feeling vindicated.  And his mother is proven right that he is the screwup kid who can’t be trusted with authority.   But Kylo still likes to think that his grandfather would understand. That Darth Vader was as secretly hungry for answers as he is.  And maybe, just maybe, Anakin Skywalker saw his struggling grandson in his own forays into the World Between Worlds.  And that’s in part why Lord Vader hoarded away all his Sith and Jedi relics.  Luke might have turned his nose up at Lord Vader’s offer, but the revered Sith knew his grandson would need help ruling the galaxy someday.

 

Fuck!   Kylo hates being in this position.  And he hates that Rey is miserable and suffering as a result. 

 

Snoke once told him that in some ancient cultures, children identified as Force users were abandoned to die.  They were considered defective. Like freaks of nature.  It was best that they die and not reproduce to pass on their flaw.  Force users are an aberration, his old Master taught.  We tap into a power we should not be able to wield.   We influence events in a way we should not.  We disturb the status quo of nature.  We alter the ever-shifting ebb and flow of the balance of Light and Dark.

 

It all sounds so powerful, but in truth Kylo feels rather helpless right now. 

 

He sent Rey off to the Senate this morning.  She was wearing one of her somber, demure dresses with her hair pulled back.   It’s her regular uniform as Senator Rey, but all Kylo could see was her creepy golden eyes.  They are hard to ignore.

 

What do I tell people when they ask, Rey had fretted.  Shoot them with lightning, he joked back.  Kylo keeps trying hard to keep things upbeat and positive with Rey.  She had frowned at him and so Kylo offered up his best advice:  tell them you have the Force.  You’re a freak like me, he had thought to himself.  Rey had nodded somberly and driven off in her now misnomer JEDIGRL speeder.   Yes, Kylo thought as he stood on the terrace watching her go, we are a matched pair.  If nothing else, he and Rey have each other.

 

Kylo took his own advice and went back to work, too.  The highlight of today’s schedule is his meeting on the observatory data project.  Kylo enters the room chock full of data analysts and astrophysicists and everyone automatically lurches to their feet and looks terrified.  Even the First Order’s Chief Navigator looks spooked, and he’s been in Kylo’s presence a time or two before.  It’s a little annoying.  Sometimes the reputation of Kylo Ren is a liability that impedes easy communication.  No one is forthcoming with ideas when they fear saying the wrong thing will result in their execution. 

 

Kylo impatiently waves everyone back into their chairs.  Then he tries to signal that he wants a full and frank discussion by removing his mask.  But that just gets the room even more tense.  Suppressing a sigh, Kylo turns to the lead data guy.  “Tell me what you’ve got.”

 

The preliminary report is a mixed bag.  After sifting through almost fifty years of information sent back by thousands of probe droids, the big picture is clear.   The team walks him through a basic map of what has been charted out.  It’s a lot.  Palpatine’s pet project continued by Snoke has yielded a surprisingly detailed map of most of the Unknown Regions.  The new data seems quite accurate when the First Order’s own non-public navigation for the region is overlaid.  

 

But one whole swath of the Unknown Regions is still unmapped.  Why?   Kylo gets a foreboding answer.   Hundreds of probe droids have been launched that direction but none has ever reported back.  It could be the result of natural phenomena that interrupt communications. A cluster of black holes.  Some massive scale magnetic field.  Maybe even a dense debris field with asteroids that destroys the probe droids upon entry.   Those sorts of navigational nightmares are not unheard of.  The famed Kessel Run has a few of them.  They make sensors go blind and they can distort time and space, making hyperspace jumps exceedingly dangerous.  Usually, navigators deal with these impediments by making wide detours.  But as Han Solo’s son, Kylo knows those same challenges can also present possibilities.  Namely, they can provide excellent possibilities to hide someone or something. 

 

What do we know about the area, Kylo asks.  He’s a smuggler’s son, so he knows that navigational information is often proprietary among a certain class of spacer.  Rumors and anecdotes abound.  Sometimes, information is available for a price.   There are even pirates who make a side living as guides through tricky bits of space.   Surely, someone knows something about what’s out there, he complains.  What do the nearby systems say?  None are inhabited by sentient beings, he is told.  All anyone knows is that the area is generally referred to as Lehon or Rakata.   But no one knows why.  A search of those names in the First Order and Old Imperial archives yields nothing.   If history ever knew anything about this place, it is lost to time.  And that’s sort of typical of the Unknown Regions.  Long, long ago before the rise and eventual dominance of the Old Republic, this area of the galaxy was much more developed and populated.  But many thousands of years later, the locus of commerce and civilization has taken root firmly in the Core. 

 

Get a ship as close as to that area as you can safely park one, Kylo orders.  Then launch a few probes from the ship.  Monitor them continuously and let’s see what we find. 

 

Next, Kylo starts thinking outside the box.  Do we still have those Pike navigators in custody or did we execute them already?   No one seems to know.  If they’re alive, he orders, make them a deal in exchange for everything they know about the Unknown Regions.  Pick their brains.   Guys like that know much more than the average star map. 

 

All this talk of drug dealers gives him yet another idea.  He orders an aide to locate a certain YT-1300 Corellian light freighter impounded from the Resistance out of deep storage on the _Finalizer._ Download its navigational data, he orders.  For all Kylo knows, Han Solo made forays into the Unknown Regions.  Risky hyperspace jumps and remote sketchy hideouts were sort of his father’s specialty. 

 

The meeting concludes and Kylo is no further to locating the mysterious Sith who had dogged first Palpatine and then Snoke.  But that’s not surprising.  Kylo knows from searching years for his exiled uncle how easy it is to disappear off the grid.  And look at how long Master Yoda eluded the Empire on Dagobah.  The difference is that those Jedi Masters did not want to be found.  This guy apparently does.  Instinctively, Kylo knows that his best chance of finding him lies with combining whatever clues Rey hears with the knowledge his navigators discover. 

 

Hours later, the day is done.  Kylo heads back to the apartment.  To Rey.  

 

He loves living with Rey.  His grandparents’ apartment is not quite the sexy secret rendezvous love nest he had hoped.  He and Rey are living like roommates currently.  But it’s still good.  Kylo will take whatever he can get.   Because in the same breath, Rey will tell him that they have no future together and then ask him to stay.  But rather than become frustrated, Kylo forgives her inconsistency.  He sees how lost and fearful she is. 

 

It makes Kylo want to hold on tighter.  To show her patience and compassion.  Because long ago her parents betrayed and abandoned Rey.  She’s got huge trust issues as a result.  So Kylo resolves to be the constant support in her life that no one else has been.  He will stick by Rey no matter what comes.  His own father never did that for his mother.  Things might have been different if he had.  Maybe if Han Solo hadn’t left, they could have lived together as a family and Kylo wouldn’t have been sent to his uncle’s temple.  And then history would have unfolded differently. 

 

The threat of this unknown Sith has Kylo especially concerned that he and Rey present a united front.  He won’t risk Rey being manipulated into being his enemy again.  That will end badly for everyone, he knows.

 

“So how did today go?” Kylo asks as Rey walks in that night.  He’s trying to assess her mood without being obvious.  He’s really hoping that a day at work lifted her spirits.  Sitting around all day miserable from Darkness wasn’t helping anything. 

 

Rey sighs as she puts down her work bag.  “Everyone noticed.”

 

“Yes.” That was bound to happen.  Those golden yellow eyes are startling. Kylo lets the point slide.  The less said about that, the better.  “Start any new legislation?”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I did.  We’re drafting a ban on super weapons.”

 

“Okay,” he swallows hard.  “Good.”  Rey doesn’t start small. He’ll have to find a way to sell it to the hardliners.  The military is going to hate a ban on Death Stars.  Wanting to make sure she doesn’t get too far afield, he offers, “Can I send over some Palace lawyers?   They can help you get the language right the first time.  That will streamline the approval process.”  And, hopefully, craft the words with enough  illusory vagueness and wiggle room that the military will be placated.

 

“Yeah, okay.   That would be good,” she nods. 

 

“Hungry?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Good.  Because we’ve already had breakfast today,” he quips.

 

She doesn’t smile.  Rey just settles down on the couch to brood.

 

Still, Kylo keeps trying.  “I got some news on those old observatories today.” He shares the highlight of his day’s work, telling Rey all about the preliminary data analysis.  “I’m thinking of sending a fleet into the Unknown Regions.  They could confirm the information we’ve mapped out and help to investigate the rest.”

 

“You mean like as explorers?” Rey asks.

 

“Yes. It would be under the pretext of expanding the Empire.  We’ve conquered the known galaxy.  Now, it’s time to bring order to wild space and the Unknown Regions.”

 

“So, a search under the guise of conquest?” Rey frowns.  “Are you really sure you want to find that guy?”

 

That’s a good question which Kylo has thought about a lot.  “I’d rather find him on my terms on his turf than wake up to find he’s here on Coruscant.  Plus, deep space exploration will keep the military busy.  I need to give the top brass something to do during peacetime.   Otherwise, they’ll be plotting a coup.”   He’s never been popular among the military and Kylo knows it. 

 

Rey considers a moment.  “Just be careful how many ships and which commanders you send on the mission.  Because you might discover that the top brass start plotting a coup against you with the mystery Sith.”  Survivor Rey is astute at strategy.  She shoots him a very serious look.  “Don’t send that guy an armada to use against you.”

 

It’s good advice.  “I won’t.  I’m no fool.”   Kylo reaches for his datapad to start poking at it.  “Look what else I found.” He hands over the datapad and starts reciting the Kittat words on the open file he’s showing her.  “Sound familiar?”  

 

“Yes,” Rey nods.  “Those were the words he said.  What do they mean?”

 

“Those are the words written here in Kittat.  It’s the ancient language of the Sith. The words are an old variation of the Code of the Sith.  A very old version.  It pre-dates Bane.”

 

Rey looks at him blankly.   “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

 

“Darth Bane reformed the Sith into the Rule of Two.  After Lord Bane, there was one Sith Master and one Sith Apprentice.  Bane reduced the Sith culture into a religion of two Dark priests.”  Well, at least theoretically.  The Rule of Two seemed to be honored less in the observance and more in the breach most of the time.  Rey is still looking at him blankly, so Kylo summarizes for her.  “It means the version of the Sith Code the mystery guy was saying is super old.   It would have been from the Old Sith Empire.   From the Great Galactic War four thousand years ago.  From back when the Sith were open and notorious as a warrior culture that worshipped the Dark Side and sought to dominate the galaxy.”

 

“So this guy is super old?” Rey surmises.

 

“Or he follows the way of the Old Sith Empire,” Kylo gives the other alternative.

 

Rey frowns at the datafile.  “Where did you get this?  How do you know this?”

 

“Vader had it.    He had fragments of old journals from some guy called Darth Malgus.”

 

“Never heard of him.”

 

“He was an ancient Sith and something of a malcontent.  He wrote a lot about how the Sith had abandoned their core values.  That’s why he had the old Sith Code written in his journal.”

 

“Oh.  Okay.  I guess that makes sense.”   Rey looks troubled now.  “So Snoke was okay with you reading this stuff?  What did Snoke think of the Sith?   And if he hated the Jedi, then what did he think of Vader’s stash of Jedi stuff?”

 

Kylo thinks a moment. “Snoke thought the Sith were irrelevant.  They died out because they unnecessarily limited themselves.  Snoke thought the Rule of Two was stupid.  It concentrated power in too few people and maximized the risk.  He had a lot of contempt for the modern Sith.”

 

“And the Jedi stuff?”

 

“Snoke wasn’t troubled by Vader’s holochrons.  So long as my uncle didn’t discover them, of course.  Snoke knew all about my temptation to the Light, but he never worried that I would turn back.  He was confident that I could never be a Jedi.  His greatest fear was that Luke Skywalker would succeed in training a new generation of knights.”

 

“Because they would be a threat to him?”

 

“Yes.”  Kylo crosses the room to collect a holochron.  “Head’s up!”  He playfully lobs the cube at her.  “Ready to try again?”  He wants to keep Rey striving for the Light.  The Force is like a muscle—it develops the more you use it.  It’s why training is essential to maintaining and improving your skills. 

 

“Okay.”  She tries.  And fails.  Rey looks so discouraged.  “I’ll never feel the Light again,” she laments, appearing close to tears.   Rey looks away, blinking fast.  “I will be Dark forever.”

 

She sounds forlorn and looks hopeless.  Kylo sits down beside her on the couch and snakes an arm around her waist for what he hopes is a safe, nonthreatening side hug.   Maybe Rey doesn’t want to hear this, but Kylo will say it anyway.  He needs to make this point clear.  “Your destiny lies with me.  And if it is Dark, then so be it.  Rey, you can be my Dark Sith lady or my Light Side princess.  I don't care.  I accept you as you are." 

 

He means this with all his heart.  His commitment is unconditional.  She is what matters, not her Force. It’s the conflicted-by-birth Skywalker version of the ‘in sickness and in health’ pledge that Kylo dearly wishes someone in his own family had said to him long ago.  But instead, his uncle’s solution was the sword. 

 

“Yeah?”  Rey raises tentative eyes to his.  She looks reassured instead of the hot rebuke he expects.  And, really, her tacit acceptance of his words speaks volumes about how vulnerable Rey feels.  His fierce girl is ironically so diminished in her Dark version.  She’s not empowered at all.

 

Emboldened by her reaction, Kylo keeps going.  “I meant what I said yesterday about getting married.”

 

That goes too far and elicits the anticipated rejection.  She brushes him off. “We don’t have to get married because we slept together.  That’s stupid.  And old fashioned.”

 

“No, it’s not.”  He holds her gaze.  “We would get married to be together. It would be a commitment that neither of us would be alone again ever.  We would be allied to one another.”  A couple united against the threat of this unknown Sith, living happily-ever-after defending his Empire in between wild sex romps like that glorious night in the Palace that went so wrong.

 

Rey’s yellow eyes narrow.  “Is this another version of ‘join me’?  Because I don’t want to rule the galaxy with you.”

 

Kylo refrains from pointing out that she’s doing that already as a Senator. 

 

“And I don’t want to be the Supreme Leaderette or whatever your first lady is called.  Because that’s not me.”

 

Kylo thinks Rey would be great at the job of first lady, but he keeps that opinion to himself for now.  “If you want, we could keep it a secret like my grandparents. No one needs to know but us,” he offers.  And actually, he likes that idea.  He finds it romantic.

 

“I could just see the press,” Rey sighs and deadpans.  “The bride wore black . . . and a mask to hide her yellow eyes.”

 

“No one needs to know but us,” he repeats.  “As it is, the press would have a field day.  They think you are an item with Hux.  Did you see the pictures from the Empire Day party?”  Rey had looked like an ingenue fairytale princess.  A little aloof from her awkwardness standing beside the limelight loving Hux.  But jaw droppingly beautiful.  No wonder Kylo couldn’t resist her when she confronted him that night demanding a reprieve for the Kuat Senator.

 

“Drop it,” Rey shoots him a quelling look.  She looks beleaguered now as she reaches for the discarded datapad.  “Maybe I should focus instead on learning Sith stuff.  Is any of this translated?”

 

“Yes.” Kylo takes back the datapad and retrieves a new file with the Basic version. “It’s mostly ruminations on the nature and use of Dark power.  Lord Malgus must have been pretty intense.  And bitter.  From his writings, that guy was very bitter.”

 

“Were you expecting a Sith to be happy?”  Rey starts scrolling through the file.  “Is his journal all the Sith teachings Vader had?”

 

“No.  Keep swiping through to the rest.  Vader had Sith holochrons and other journal fragments.  The other journals are less philosophical and more like how-to books of spells.  They are full of superstition and hokey charms.  Curses for your rivals.  Suggestions for how to humiliate your enemies.  Goofy stuff like love spells.”

 

“Love spells?”  She’s amused. 

 

He shrugs.  “The Sith were a passionate sort.  Emotion was the source of their power.  They tended to be extreme in their personal lives.  They loved as strongly as they hated, apparently.”

 

“Yes, I could see that,” Rey nods as her yellow eyes slant over to regard him.  It’s a sly, sexy look even if it’s completely unintentional.   “So maybe we should curse that guy in the Unknown Regions,” Rey suggests with an unholy glee that matches her eyes.  “Where’s the part with the curses?”  She keeps scrolling through. “Let’s see . . .   Oooh, this one is ugly.  Let’s do this one!” She points to a particularly vicious invocation for the Dark Side to melt someone’s bones. 

 

Kylo declines the suggestion.  “Rey, it’s best not to bait that guy.  If he’s that old, he must be very powerful.   I don’t want to start the aggression.”

 

Rey is still reading. “Look at this!  A Sith seduction spell.”  Her eyes grow wide.  “Woah!   That’s uh . . . explicit.  Hot, though.  But what’s all this sexy talk about red skin?”

 

“Pureblood members of the original Sith species had red skin,” Kylo explains.  “It’s why the colors red and black became associated with the Sith.”

 

“Ah, so that explains the references to red . . . er . . . appendages.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Look!”

 

He skims the graphic words.  Then, he smirks.  “Careful, or I’ll use that spell on you.”

 

“It won’t work,” she smirks back. “You don’t have the requisite red appendage.  The lights were out, but if I recall yours was—“

 

“Let’s try the holochron again,” Kylo immediately changes the topic. 

 

“Ha!” she scoffs, clearly enjoying his discomfort.   “Here’s another one. ‘Submit to me and I shall be your slave. Let me die inside you and I will be reborn as yours.’  Wow, these Sith Lords had game.  Darth Boyfriend here had a way with words.” Fascinated Rey reads some more.  “‘Fall upon my red sword and I will protect you forever.’   Huh.  I guess that sword reference is metaphorical.  Another red appendage, eh?”  She winks a yellow eye at him. 

 

Kylo groans.  He can feel himself blushing.  It’s annoying.  But this is the most animated and like her old self Rey has been in days.  So he tries to be good natured about her ribbing.

 

“It ends sweetly,” she points out.  “‘I will be your Lord and you will be my Lady.  Together, forever in the Force.’   That’s a nice sentiment.”

 

“Let’s try the holochron again,” Kylo persists.  She’s supposed to be summoning the Light.  Not reading purple prose from a horny Sith that’s thousands of years old.

 

But Rey ignores him.  She too engrossed in the sex spells. “How did the Sith Empire dwindle to only pairs of two with all this Dark Side boning going on?” she wonders aloud. 

 

“It’s simple.  They killed each other,” Kylo states plainly.  “The Sith culture was its own undoing. Darth Malgus goes on about that issue at length.”

 

“Maybe I should try one of these spells to see if it works,” Rey muses. 

 

Er . . .  well, okay.  That could be good.  Actually, that could be very good.  Kylo plays along.  “Go ahead,” he invites.  “Lay one on me.  But, Rey, you don’t need to cast a spell on me.  I don’t play hard to get.”  Unlike some people he could name.

 

“I agree,” Rey nods.  “You’re no test for this sort of thing.  Maybe I should try Army.”

 

“Hux?   Hux??” Kylo sputters.  “Don’t you dare!”

 

She laughs at his outrage and needles him some more.  “Army won’t know what hit him.”

 

“Don’t you dare!”  Kylo bellows again, feeling sort of Sith himself now. 

 

“I’m just kidding.   Calm down.   Oh, look, this one is sweet too.  And so chaste by comparison.  It’s a love pledge.  Not a panties-to-the-floor Force command for sex.”

 

“Let’s do it,” Kylo decides impulsively.  Because if Rey wants to try out Dark love spells, they will be on him.  Definitely not on Hux.  “Read it aloud,” he commands in his best Dark Master voice.

 

“For us?” she squeaks.  “Why?   I told you—we can’t be together.”  She points at her eyes.  “Need I remind you what happens when we are together?”

 

“Fine.  Duly noted.  But let’s hear it anyway.”

 

“Alright. But this doesn’t change anything.”  She clears her throat and begins.  “I will be your passion. I will give you strength. And together, we will gain power and victory.”

 

“Very will-to-power,” he judges. “I like it.”  So, he repeats, “Rey, I will be your passion. I will give you strength. And together, we will gain power and victory.  Is there more?  What’s the rest?”

 

“The Force has brought us together, the Force will bind us, and the Force will set us free.”

 

“This must have been written for a Sith power couple,” he observes.

 

“Is there any other kind?” she smirks.

 

“Good point.”  He turns to her to repeat the words.  “The Force has brought us together, the Force will bind us, and the Force will set us free.”

 

“So that’s it?”

 

“That’s it.  We’re done.”

 

“Good.   Now, let’s do a seduction one.”   It’s worth another try, right?  Rey is so close and she looks and smells so good.  All this talk of seduction and power has him ready to play the Darth Boyfriend role himself.  One night of sex has him wanting more.  A lot more.

 

“No, thanks.”   She shoots him down fast. 

 

As usual, Kylo doesn’t take no easily.  He leans in to whisper, “How did that go again?  ‘Submit to me and I will be your slave.’ Did I get that part right?”

 

“Knock it off.  Seriously.”  Rey jumps to her feet and the moment is lost.  “I’m hungry after all,” she changes her mind.  “Want a protein bar?” she asks as she heads for the kitchen. 

 

“Honestly?   No.  Let’s go get greasy pizza in the park,” he calls after her.

 

“Yeah.  Okay,” she calls back.  “But go change.  We look like Mr. and Mrs. First Order dressed like this.”

 

She’s right.  Kylo heads to remove his uniform.  Two minutes later, Rey is wearing a casual t-shirt, boots, and pants and he’s wearing civilian attire.  She approves.  “No one would take us for who we are now.”

 

He can’t resist tweaking her a little.  “You know, I could make you Mrs. First Order.”

 

“Not a chance,” Rey rejects him as she heads for the terrace.  “Dibs on driving!” she calls back.  “Into the passenger seat, flyboy!”

 

In his new guise as meek and accommodating, Kylo jumps in to ride shotgun.  These days, he’s giving Rey what she wants when it comes to little things.  Under the circumstances, it’s the least he can do.  He feels as awful as she does about those yellow eyes. 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Kylo keeps hovering. It's getting annoying. Especially since Rey keeps catching him looking at her strangely. Sometimes, he looks at her like she's a bomb that's about to blow. And sometimes it’s with a weird sort of pity. Is that guilt? Maybe empathy? Rey doesn’t know what to make of it. But she feels watched. And that’s annoying.

 

He's doing it again now.

 

They are eating breakfast. Well, he’s eating breakfast. Rey isn’t eating hers. She has never gotten in the habit of eating three meals a day. It’s a legacy of Jakku, like some other habits she can’t seem to shake.

 

“Here. Take this with you to work,” Kylo slides a holochron across the table. Suddenly, Kylo seems to have a holochron on him at all times. It’s like he’s some kind of bona fide Jedi Master, proselytizing the Light every chance he gets.   That too is annoying. 

 

“You might have a few minutes today to try to open it,” Kylo suggests hopefully. “Today could be the day,” he says with a forced optimism that grates.

 

“Yeah, okay.” Sullen Rey accepts the cube rather than fight about it.

 

“Rey,” Kylo puts down his fork and reaches across the table to cover her hand with his own. His eyes lock with hers. “You can do this,” he cheerleads like some motivational speaker off a self-help podcast on the holonet.

 

“Yeah, okay.” Whatever. Like with the cube, Rey accepts his sentiment rather than fight about it.

 

Kylo strokes his beard thoughtfully like he’s doing his best Luke Skywalker impression and Rey starts pretending to eat.  She doesn’t want to have this conversation again.  She’s tired of having this conversation.

 

It’s been over a week now, and Rey is losing hope that whatever happened that night on Empire Day can be reversed. Because she keeps fighting to hold the Darkness at bay, but it feels like a losing battle. Rey spends way too much mental energy overanalyzing herself. And Kylo is suffocating her with his constant yapping about the Force. She’s tired of him mansplaining the Light. It’s hypocritical on top of being annoying.  But Kylo seems convinced that her yellow eyes will wear off in time. He’s basing this mostly on a hunch and words of wisdom he recalls from Snoke and passes on like they are quotes of gospel truth.

 

“Historically, women have not made good Sith. Darth Tyranus tried and failed with a female Apprentice years ago. She was a disappointment,” Kylo passes harsh judgment.

 

“Who was she?” Rey dutifully asks as she takes a gulp of caf.

 

“Ventress Asaj, a minor figure in the Clone Wars,” Kylo says dismissively. “She broke with Count Dooku and the Separatists and became a gun for hire. A bounty hunter,” he says with disdain.

 

“Yeah?” Rey pretends to be interested.

 

“Women may be the far more emotional sex in general, but rarely do they have the temperament and fortitude to be Sith,” Kylo pontificates. “Snoke always said that women do not deal with Darkness the same way as men do. Women do not use their aggressive feelings as readily. Their first inclination is usually to internalize pain rather than to strike out. Women tend to focus their feelings within. Ultimately, it weakens their resolve, hurts their self-worth, and undercuts their confidence. So you see,” Kylo summarizes the moral of his story with irritating male condescension, “you could never succeed in Darkness.”

 

He thinks this is a good thing, but part of Rey hears it as a challenge.

 

Kylo keeps spouting the patriarchy of the Dark Side. “Women are better at micro-aggressions than at the violent dominance displayed by men. And women’s social nature makes them tend to form cliques and factions rather than to compete outright head to head. Women can be just as deadly but they tend to do it on a smaller scale, with far more personal involvement. That’s why a Dark lady is more apt to kill her romantic rival or her child’s tormentor than she is to subdue an entire world. And that won’t win the galaxy in end.” Kylo shrugs as he concludes, “Men, quite simply, know better how to think big.”

 

“You realize we’re talking about me, right?” Rey points out.  An aggressive, emotionally repressed, non-social, non-mother from Jakku who once tried to save the galaxy with the Resistance. Thinking small is not her problem.  Neither is forming vicious cliques with a circle of bitchy girlfriends.

 

“Don’t you see?” Kylo is confident. “The Dark Side isn't for you. In no time, those eyes will wear off and you’ll be back in the Light where you belong.” He points his fork at her and urges, “Keep trying and be patient.”

 

Easy for him to say, Rey thinks.  “What if I am better at being Dark now?” she questions in a small, scared voice.

 

That’s a non-starter apparently.  “I want you Light,” Kylo orders.  “I need you in the Light to help balance my Empire.”

 

The entitlement behind those words is unmistakable.  “I should get going,” Rey grumbles. She’s heard enough. “See you tonight.”

 

“You forgot something,” Kylo grabs the holochron she accidentally on purpose left on the table. “Heads up!” He playfully tosses it to her.

 

Rey catches it.  “Right. Thanks.”

 

“Have a good day,” he calls after her fast retreating form.   His cheeriness sounds so forced.  “Ban all the Death Stars you want.”

 

Brushing past the praetorian guarding the door to the terrace, Rey irreverently lobs the precious holochron into the back seat of her hot rod speeder, jumps in, and guns the engine.  Then, she flies like a maniac to the Senate to blow off steam.

 

At the office, at least, she can be productive and do something useful. Rey rolls up her sleeves and gets to work polishing the language on the bill to ban super weapons. Crafting legislation is not her strong suit, so she has a small working group convened in her office. Mostly, Rey sits back and listens as the experts debate the finer points.

 

It drags on until suddenly they have a visitor.

 

“What is this nonsense about a Death Star ban?” Army Hux’s voice precedes him into the room, booming like he’s at his Senate rostrum. As usual, Army enters unannounced, without invitation or so much as a knock. The Chancellor views the Senate and its adjacent office building much like his former command posts. Everything falls under his purview. Only he’s the boss of the ship of state now, and not at the helm of the Starkiller or a star destroyer.

 

Rey looks up from where she is clustered with the lawyers Kylo sent over. “It’s not nonsense. We’re going over the latest draft now.”

 

Hux sweeps in majestically to survey the room. “What is it about the combination of you and a bunch of lawyers that terrifies me?”

 

“Relax.  These are Palace lawyers,” Rey informs him smugly.

 

“Ren knows about this?” Hux raises an eyebrow. “Yes, of course. Ren knows about this.” Army frowns at her and for the first time notices her eyes. “Good Gods, Rey!  What happened to your eyes??”

 

“It’s nothing.” Rey looks down.  She’s very self-conscious about her creepy eyes. It’s as much about how they look as it is what they signify.

 

“That is not nothing.”  Hux marches over to rudely peer at her in front of everyone. “Ewww.” He curls his lip. “Does that hurt?”

 

Yes, yes it does. But not in the way he expects. “It’s nothing,” she insists again testily. Rey has been dreading running into Army. Somehow, she got lucky and for the past several days the Chancellor has been tied up in meetings all day at the Palace and so she escaped this awkward reunion. But no such luck today. They even have an audience, she thinks sourly.

 

Army manages to look both suspicious and thoughtful now. “You know, my father said Palpatine had golden eyes in person. He had blue eyes officially in all his portraits and in his earlier years. But when he came out of the closet as Sith, he had those same golden eyes.  His eyes looked like a predator at night, my father always said.”

 

Rey shifts her weight and flushes now, very aware of the attention of the entire room fixed on her.

 

Army looks impressed now. “Wow, Rey, that’s something. I never guessed you were Sith in disguise.”

 

“Can we talk about something else?” she grinds out. One more comment about her eyes and she’s shooting lightning, Rey decides. She has moved from uncomfortable to angry now. She’s a hair trigger from violent, too.  That’s how touchy she is about her eyes.  Well, really, about everything lately.  She feels so stressed out.

 

“I knew you were hiding secrets but I never guessed this. So . . . did you actually kill Snoke?” Hux inquires. “Did Ren tell the truth?”

 

The whole room is really staring now.

 

“Well?” Army prompts with a raised red eyebrow. With his perpetual frown, the expression comes off as pure aristocratic hauteur. Chancellor Hux has condescension and social dominance down to an art form.  Few people intimidate with words like this man does.  “Did you kill Snoke?”

 

“I wish I had,” Rey smirks while the Palace lawyers all look suitably shocked. 

 

“Ah, so it was Ren after all,” Hux concludes. “Too bad.” He surveys her openly now. “I think I like the new you, Rey. This presents a lot of interesting possibilities.”

 

“Go away. We’re working,” Rey dismisses Army rudely, feeling justified.

 

The Chancellor ignores it. “So which one of you is the Master?” he wonders aloud.

 

“Go away,” Rey says through gritted teeth.

 

“There’s always two, right? And Sith always operate by deceit. Was your Resistance stint all a misdirect to fool Snoke?” Hux posits. “Because it fooled me. But it sort of makes sense now how you escaped both the Starkiller and the _Supremacy_.” Hux’s icy blue eyes pin her yellow ones. “Ren wanted you to live. All along, he wanted you saved. But still . . . you did kick his ass in the woods . . .  I’m not sure how that fits in with the story.”

 

“I am not a Sith,” Rey snaps, feeling very aware of their audience listening in.

 

“What are you then? And what do those creepy eyes mean? And don’t tell me it’s jaundice or a bad reaction to spice because I won’t believe it.”

 

“Go away!” Rey snaps. “Can’t you see we are busy?  Don’t you have someplace you need to be, Chancellor?”

 

Hux’s eyes narrow now. “Wait a minute—did Ren do that to you? I saw him messing with your head. I thought he was choking you until he put you to sleep and carried you off like some cheesy villain in a holonet soap opera. Really, it was ridiculous,” Army critiques.  “Ren was playacting the fiend with you prostrate and helpless in his arms like some sacrificial virgin to be laid on the altar of evil.”

 

“Are you done? Stop starting rumors!” Rey lashes out, glancing about at their rapt audience listening in.

 

Hux answers softly. “They aren’t rumors and you know it.”

 

“Can we talk in private then at least??” she hisses.

 

“Sure.” Hux turns to the crowd of attorneys and staffers. “Everyone get out. Now. Lest you hear more uncomfortable truths that don’t add up which the Senator refuses to explain.”

 

“Army—“ she growls.  Rey is good and angry now.

 

Hux gives her a look of feigned innocence. “That is what you wanted, is it not?”

 

The room empties and now the awkwardness ratchets up a notch. Desperate to change the topic, Rey asks, “How was the Empire Day after party? How did the Vader statue look lit up red?”

 

“You mean the party you stood me up for?” Army asks blithely. “It was good. Even you would have enjoyed it.” Hux shoots her a reproachful look. “You know that Kuat Senator you defended is completely guilty. You made a scene and got your way but it won’t change the outcome. Now, Ren will give him a show trial and an even more public execution. All you did was delay the inevitable and piss Ren off.”

 

Yes, if Rey could take that day back, she would. She would have let that guy die and gone on to the party with Army and never gone to bed with Kylo Ren. Then, she thinks, she would not have been awakened to the Dark Side or whatever happened to give her these yellow eyes.  

 

Just thinking about it has Rey ready to cry again.

 

Hux sees her fragile hold on her composure.  His posture softens. “Are you okay? Like really okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Rey retorts.

 

It’s a lie and they both know it. Rey is barely holding together right now. She is anxiety ridden, prone to weeping, and feeling seconds from violence. It’s exhausting and discouraging. Returning to the routine of the office has only helped a little. Not as much as she hoped.  Because no matter where she goes, the looming Darkness follows.  Each day, it gets a little worse.

 

“Rey,” Army frowns down at her, “tell me the truth. Are you okay? Because you don’t look okay.”

 

“I’m fine,” she growls.

 

“When you didn’t show up for work after Empire Day, I was worried about you. I went by your apartment.”

 

“Yeah?” Rey is afraid to know more.

 

“Yes. I pull up and the first thing I see are four praetorians standing guard. That meant Ren was there. They tried to shoo me away but I persisted until he appeared. Rey, I warned you about him—“

 

“Don’t tell me any more—“

 

“He threw me out and said you were fine. Except you weren’t fine, were you?  You’re not fine now.”

 

“I’m fine!”

 

“I guess you were paying your rent,” Army says with a knowing look and a suggestive tone. His implication is clear. 

 

Rey flusters some more.

 

And now, petty Hux lashes out with his characteristic snark.  “Ren looks ridiculous with that Jedi beard. It’s so Rim. Hasn’t anyone told him we are supposed to be elevating the Rim trash, not emulating them,” Army sniffs. “For a moment, I thought I had discovered Luke Skywalker himself and not as a ghost or whatever he was on Crait.”

 

“You’ve got the wrong idea about me and Kylo,” Rey objects weakly.

 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Hux snaps. “I know what I saw. Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t slept with him.”

 

Rey can feel her face flame as she grimaces and looks away indignantly.

 

“Yes,” purrs Army Hux, “I thought so.” He looks upset himself now. “Get away from him, Rey. He’s dangerous!”

 

“I can’t get away from him,” she wails.  

 

She tried. She really tried pushing Kylo away. But Kylo is persistent and he’s nice to have around when he isn’t invading her head or killing people or pontificating about destiny and the Force. Somehow, despite her best efforts, she ended up in his Senate, in his apartment, and then in his bed. And now, she can’t get away from him. Because he’s the only person in the galaxy left who knows the Force and can help her. And whoever the scary guy is in the Unknown Regions, Kylo is right that he will be coming for her as much as for Kylo. Kylo may have gotten her into this mess, but he’s her best chance of getting out of it alive. Miserable and angry though she is, Rey is enough of a survivor to assess the odds correctly.  Plus, Kylo has been so nice trying to help her.  For the first time ever, Rey feels like she’s not alone with her struggles.  And that’s nice.  It’s really nice.  Overbearing though he is, she wants Kylo around.

 

But Rey isn’t going to explain all that. She just answers in a resigned tone, “I can’t get away from Kylo. You know that.”

 

“Yes, I saw on Empire Day. What does he do to you?” Hux asks with lurid fascination. “No, don’t tell me,” he immediately changes his mind, “I don’t want to know what sort of mental sex and Force bondage Ren is into. He’s so fucked up that I can only imagine.”

 

Humiliated Rey stares at the floor.

 

“Oh.  Uh . . .   Oh.” For once, Armitage Hux is at a loss for words. He cringes. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he backtracks in a rare moment of embarrassment.

 

An awful moment of silence falls between them. It seems to last forever until Army breaks it.

 

“Rey,” he says as he gives her a look of true pity, “when you are ready to be free of him, I can help you help yourself. It will help others, too. There are those of us who envision a different future for the Empire--”

 

“Is this more treason talk?” she cuts him off, rolling her eyes. “If so, I don’t want to hear it.”

 

“No,” Hux answers flatly. “This is a friend who wants to help a friend. You deserve better than Ren. Don’t let him abuse you.”

 

“It’s not what you think,” she protests gruffly. “Please, don’t say any more—“

 

“When you have had enough, I can help you provided you help us. We need someone on the inside. And since you’re living with him now—“

 

“Stop!” Rey is adamant. “Don’t ever mention this to me again!”  She raises fearful eyes to Army as she hisses, “He gets in my head!  He’ll know this.”  The last thing she needs is to get drawn into a conspiracy with Army and his power-hungry groupies. She refuses to choose sides in First Order internal politics.  Right now, Rey is mostly concerned for herself.

 

“Oh, Ren already suspects. He knows we all hate him and long to be rid of him.” Army looks truly troubled now. “Be careful, Rey. I could tell you stories about Ren that would shock you. He’s unstable.”

 

“I know.” So is she these days. She and Kylo are more and more matched, Rey realizes. Both Dark and dangerous.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hux tells her sincerely.

 

“I know,” she laments. “I’m sorry too.”

 

“And for the record, I’m going to oppose your Death Star ban.”

 

“I know.”  She would have expected nothing less.

 

After another two hours of bickering over whether having the regime officially regret the loss of life on Hosnia rises to the level of an actual apology and whether Snoke’s massive floating moon-sized ship the   _Supremacy_ would qualify as a superweapon, Rey is done. She has lost patience with the tedious necessity of wordsmithing. In a move very unlike herself, she abruptly declares the meeting adjourned. Her staff members in the room blink at the uncharacteristic brusqueness, but the lawyers take it in stride. They seem to be used to that sort of treatment. Great, Rey thinks to herself as they silently pack up.  She’s living up to Kylo’s bad example.

 

It’s towards the end of the day now. Tired, grouchy Rey is reluctant to start anything new. So she finally gets around to picking up the holochron Kylo gave her this morning.  Dutifully, she attempts to quiet her mind and reach out with her feelings. To connect with the invisible glue that binds the universe together, to the life force that persists in all places and between all things. Finding the Force had been Luke Skywalker’s first lesson. To show her that the Force does not belong to the Jedi. It belongs to everyone everywhere. And so, Rey reasons, it belongs to her too. As Kylo keeps reminding her, yellow eyes notwithstanding, she is still a favorite of the Force.

 

She can do this, Rey encourages herself. She taught herself how to survive in the desert. She taught herself how to read. She taught herself to fly on an old simulator. She taught herself a trade. She can do this. She can teach herself the Force.  She can reclaim who she is and who she wants to be. 

 

This time, she eases up and tries to surrender into the Light rather than will the Force to respond. She will let go, like Kylo keeps urging her. Let go of your conscious self and focus on everything around you. The Force is more like a sixth sense than most people realize, he has explained. It’s a hyper-awareness. Of people. Of thoughts and feelings. Of objects. Of conflict. Of danger. Of the imminent future yet to come.

 

Stop trying to control the Force right now, Kylo keeps counseling her. Just let it control you. First, you must learn the basic step to reach for the Force. The neat tricks come later, and they will be effortless once your connection becomes natural. You are rushing it, Kylo has complained to Rey more than once. Experience the Force, believe in the Force, the surprisingly mystical Supreme Leader keeps urging. The Force is truly amazing and humbling, he marvels, sounding very much a Skywalker.

 

But Rey is impatient by nature and she’s never had any formal schooling in anything. The whole concept of training for something is new to her. She’s used to things coming easily. It’s a novel experience for Rey to have to work for something.

 

It’s plenty frustrating, too. Why is this hard if I’m so powerful, she griped to Kylo just this morning. Because ability in the Force is one part power and one part control, Kylo explained. You must refine your skills in order to reach your maximum potential. Raw power is amazing. But trained power trumps it almost any day.   Control . . . you must learn control.

 

This is hard. This is so hard. Rey senses that she is failing . . . again. But she keeps trying nonetheless.

 

Find how you like to connect with the Force, Kylo has advised her. Dark power channels emotions to intensify its power. It is an inherently personal exercise. By contrast, the Light seeks peace and calm to relate to the Force. It focuses on suppressing the wants and needs of the individual. That’s why Jedi purported to be selfless in their ideology. I will not limit how you use the Force, Kylo has vowed to her with a reformist’s zeal. There are no rules now. Do whatever works best for you.

 

But nothing seems to be working right now. Rey never dreamed this would be so hard.

 

She keeps trying. Is it working? It feels like it’s working. And then, suddenly, Rey feels cold again.

 

She knows what’s coming next.

 

_Daughter, hear me. Daughter, help me. You are my only hope._

 

Rey feels herself start to panic. The phantom voice in her head produces only dread. This is the voice that dogged a dead emperor and a dead supreme leader. And now, it haunts her.

 

_Do not be afraid._

 

“Who are you?” Rey cries aloud.  She wants answers.

 

_I am your father. That junk peddler who sold you off was not your father. He knew it, too. That’s why he sold you. He thought his girlfriend had been unfaithful to him and you were the result._

 

“Who? Who are you?” she cries again. “Why do I hear you when I try to connect to the Light?” She needs answers.  She craves truth.

 

_The Force is the Force and you are my daughter. Search your feelings. You know it to be true._

_Do not be afraid._

 

The voice fades away and the strange connection is broken. In its wake, Rey feels more confused than ever. That’s it, she decides. Enough with the super weapons ban. Kylo might need another Starkiller if this scary guy ever shows up.

 

Rey puts down the holochron and rises from her desk to walk to the window. Her office adjacent to the Chancellor’s office shares the same expansive view of the Palace. No doubt that was no accident. Kylo must have wanted Hux to be able to see his boss at a glance, looming over his shoulder and controlling everything.

 

Oh, Kylo, Rey thinks as she gazes across at the imposing Palace edifice. What’s really going on? Kylo has warned her not to be manipulated. That the Sith are deceitful by nature. And that’s all good advice. Except whoever this voice is, and whatever his agenda may be, this Sith’s words ring true. Are she and Kylo wrong to assume that this guy is a threat? Could he be the ally with the answers they need?  And might he actually be her father?

 

Dejected Rey decides to call it a day. She’ll skip the two lobbyist receptions she’s scheduled to attend after work and send a staffer instead. Rey now heads for her speeder. She’s cutting out early so she’s flying home at the peak of the Coruscant rush hour.

 

That’s a bad thing. Because when another speeder cuts in front of her and slows down, Rey hollers at him. “You nerfherder!” She’s got a hot temper these days. Even small annoyances set her off. So when the next guy in a speeder makes an aggressive move into her lane, Rey hollers “Fucking moofmilker!” at him and jabs her middle finger in a universal obscene gesture. It would just be a moment of relatively harmless road rage except the Force leaps to obey her anger with an intensity Rey does not expect. The offending speeder goes tumbling end over end out of control to slam hard in a fiery crash.

 

Yikes.

 

Did she do that?

 

She did.

 

Rey blinks in her rearview mirror at what she has unwittingly done.

 

And then, she is glad. Unlike that praetorian she killed when she fled the Palace, this guy deserved it, she decides.  Rey looks back at the accident scene and resulting traffic chaos she has left in her wake and smiles. She refuses to feel bad. Instead, she feels justified.  She’s starting to think that Kylo has the right idea with his law and order mindset.  That will teach that guy not to violate traffic laws.

 

Ten minutes later, Rey pulls onto her terrace landing pad.  The praetorians are back.  That means Kylo’s here early.   Rey collects her work bag and her holochron and marches past the guards.  She walks in to find Kylo grinning like a fool as he stands before a flickering blue hologram recording of some stern-sounding female Twi’lek Jedi Knight.

 

“You opened one,” Rey breathes out as she stops in her tracks.  “You actually opened one.”  She’s a little shocked.  Dismayed, too.

 

Kylo looks so pleased and proud.  Almost like a little boy.  He gestures to the recording.  “That’s Master Vokara Che, Chief Healer of the Jedi during the Clone Wars.  She’s teaching basic Force healing in this holochron. Want to learn it with me?”

 

“How did you open it?” Rey asks, as she stares at the very dignified looking dead Jedi.

 

“I was able to commune with the Light.  I knew if I kept trying it would work.”   Kylo doesn’t say it, but Rey hears loud and clear the unspoken sentiment that it will work for her too if she just keeps trying.

 

“Of course, it works for you,” Rey snaps.  “You’re a Chosen One!  You can access both sides of the Force.  It’s not so easy for the rest of us mere mortals,” she gripes.  “Not all of us are Skywalkers, you know.”  Jealous of his success, Rey walks over to slam down her own holochron on the table in front of him.

 

“Hey—watch that!  It’s irreplaceable,” Kylo objects to her roughness.

 

“Open that one next for me,” Rey snarls as she stalks off.  “I’m through fucking with that stupid cube!”  She’s thinking she might be through with the Light, too.


	22. Chapter 22

“Try again, Padawan,” Kylo encourages gently when yet again the holochron fails to open.

 

“Stop calling me that. I have as much power as you do.” Rey shoots him a dirty look.  She abruptly jumps up and stalks across the terrace, her body language betraying all of her indignation and frustration. “Look, I’m bored with this. Let’s go flying.”

 

“This will help you,” he persists.

 

“This is no fun,” she scowls back. “I’m done.”

 

“Hey.” Kylo gets up to join her. “Don’t get discouraged.” He stands beside her to look out on the Coruscant night skyline. It’s a lovely evening. The breeze lifts the fine strands of Rey’s hair that have come loose from her tight Senator coiffure. She looks beautiful in the waning twilight with the twinkling cityscape as her backdrop. This could be a romantic moment but for the four praetorians who stand guard on the terrace. If three’s a crowd, then six is far too large an audience for a kiss. Especially since Rey might turn him down. Kylo definitely doesn’t need witnesses for that.

 

So, he settles for snaking a comforting arm about her waist. These days, he’s all brotherly hugs and friend zone gestures. He’s getting blue balls from all this chaste domesticity in close quarters, but Rey is so out of sorts that Kylo has relegated romance to the back burner. There will be time for that once Rey reverts to her old self again, Kylo has decided. But there are moments—like this one—when the unspoken tension between them feels like it is goading him to make a move.  He’s very into Rey and increasingly protective of her now that this strange Darkness has taken hold.

 

It worries him far more than he’s letting on.  That’s why he keeps pestering her to find the Light.

 

“Come on.” He tugs grumpy Rey back to where they have been lounging around an outdoor table attempting to open another holochron. “Let’s try it together again,” Kylo suggests.

 

“You do it,” Rey replies testily.

 

Rather than argue, Kylo attempts to lead by example. Clearing his mind, he reaches for the Light. Each time it gets a little easier. In fact, this time the holochron opens almost immediately.

 

“Show off,” Rey grumbles at the triumphant grin he can’t quite bring himself to suppress.  Every time he does this, it’s a rush.

 

“Eat your heart out, Luke Skywalker,” Kylo smirks.  Then he gives Rey a pointed look.  “If I can do that, you can do it, too.”

 

This holochron contains another Jedi healer lesson. After the little cube plays its hologram message and reassembles, Kylo hands it to Rey. “Your turn. Try holding it. I think that helped me focus at first.”

 

Disinterested Rey plunks the cube aside and stands to her feet. “No. I’m done.”

 

Seeing her mulish expression, Kylo decides to avoid further conflict. He reluctantly gives in for now. “Alright,” he agrees. “We can try again tomorrow. Let’s go flying.”

 

“No! You’re not listening!” Rey hisses at him. “I’m done!” she declares dramatically, her arms upraised. Her long simmering bad attitude now ripens to hot anger. “I am so fucking done with these fucking holochrons! It’s a waste of time when you could be teaching me.”

 

That’s a nonstarter as far as Kylo is concerned. He shoots her a quelling look, but he keeps his cool. It sometimes takes true effort, but he always keeps his cool with Rey these days.  “I told you ‘no’ already,” Kylo reminds her mildly. “Don’t start with that again.  Let’s go flying and take a break from the Force.”

 

But Rey is undeterred. In the past few days as the month anniversary of Empire Day has come and gone, Rey has moved past her paralysis and grief over her sudden, inexplicable Darkness. Now, she is asserting control.  And rather than double down on her efforts to seek the Light, more and more she insists on embracing her Darkness.

 

“Back on the Starkiller, you said you would teach me,” she complains, one hand planted on her popped-out hip.

 

“I am teaching you. If you want to learn, then sit,” he invites, “Let’s try it together again.”

 

“No! I’m done trying to be something I cannot be. Stop trying to limit me! If Darkness is my destiny, so be it,” Rey argues back.

 

“You don’t get to give up,” Kylo informs her curtly. “You haven’t even really tried.”

 

“Stop whining,” she sneers.

 

“You’re the one who is whining and quitting,” he points out. “I need you in the Light. The galaxy needs you in the Light. You don’t get to quit this. That’s not how destiny works.” Kylo has tried to be patient with Rey’s lagging enthusiasm, defeatist attitude, and lackluster attempts. But he’s only willing to indulge Rey so far.  Quitting is not an option.

 

“Yeah?” Rey jeers. Then, she gets shrill.  “Well, try and stop me! I quit! I quit the Force, I quit the Senate, and I quit you!  I’m going back to Dantooine tomorrow to my old life and my old job.”

 

“No.”  His voice is calm but firm.

 

“Fuck you! I’m leaving. Now!” Rey starts marching to where the speeder is parked, looking like she fully intends to flee right here and now. And that’s unacceptable for so many reasons, chief among them that he is crazy about this yellow eyed girl and he refuses to lose her.  But it also occurs to Kylo that having a pissed off Dark-leaning ex-girlfriend prowling around his Empire is a bit risky, too.

 

So, he commands, “Stop!”  He’s about to freeze Rey in the Force when his sword unexpectedly flies from his waist into her open hand.  In a very stupid move, Rey lights it.

 

Kylo instantly stands down.

 

But the four praetorians react.

 

Rey has been looking for a fight for days. She finally got an argument from him tonight and now she’s even angling for a melee with his guards. Anger and violence.  Kylo recognizes the hallmarks of the Dark Side.  Oh Rey, I understand, he thinks as he gazes at her misery.  Rey, I understand. 

 

As she is quickly encircled by his protectors brandishing their own weapons, Kylo orders, “Stand down. All of you.”

 

The praetorians obey.

 

Rey does not.

 

Instead, she sneers, “Fight me, cowards!” at the quartet of retreating men in red.

 

But the praetorians know who’s the boss. They keep backing away.

 

Rey looks especially irritated now. “Fine!” she huffs. Rey hurls his deactivated sword back at him with Force-assisted speed just like she had thrown him a sword in Snoke’s throne room. Then, she turns back to the four guards, raises her arm, and makes a sweeping gesture to Force push them off the terrace.

 

Whoa—she means business. Kylo isn’t caught flatfooted this time. “No!” He intercepts the four men aloft with a Force move of his own. He lowers them to the ground safely and shoots Rey a withering look of reproach. “Those men are no threat to you and they are merely following orders. My orders!” he reminds her.

 

“You said you didn’t care who I kill!” Rey challenges, throwing his own words back at him.

 

Kylo resents it. “We are not butchers. We do not kill indiscriminately. We kill for a reason.”

 

“My reason is that I want rid of them,” she sulks.

 

“That’s a whim. Not a reason. Violence must have a purpose,” Kylo repeats one of Snoke’s favorite maxims. “Use it to make a point or to achieve a goal.  But if you just want rid of them, I can simply dismiss them.  Killing them isn’t necessary.”

 

“Fuck you and fuck your rules!  As if you have a reason for everyone you’ve ever killed,” she scoffs.

 

“Actually, I do.” Well, every person except his classmates at the Jedi Temple. Those deaths were an accident.  “Random murder is not how the Dark Side works.”

 

“Then teach me. Show me how Darkness works,” she says as she pouts.

 

“No.”

 

“Fine.” With a defiant glare, Rey sweeps her hand out expansively and throws the praetorians guards high and off the side of the terrace. All four men go hurtling to their grisly deaths while Rey tosses her head in triumph and her yellow eyes flash with satisfaction. She lifts an eyebrow at him as she lifts her chin in a silent challenge.

 

Kylo’s expression hardens. It’s appalling that his champion of truth and justice just did that.

 

“Are we doing this? Are we really doing this?” Kylo fumes as he stares her down. He is displeased and losing his temper fast. “Because I’ll give you the fight you want,” he warns. He’s been avoiding this confrontation for weeks now, but it feels unavoidable at this point.  Things are getting out of hand.  Perhaps he has been wrong to placate Rey so much.

 

“Bring it on,” Rey goads with her Jakku moxy and her scavenger bitch stance.

 

Kylo’s mouth settles in a grim line. He’s not keen on this outcome, but he can live with it. This isn’t how he wanted things to be between them. But if this is how she wants it, then so be it.

 

Kylo outstretches one hand and tugs Rey to him with the Force. He’s not reaching to tug her arm. His open palm closes around her neck. Her fingers start to pry at his grip so he squeezes harder now.

 

“You want to learn the Dark Side?” he demands harshly as he squeezes and shakes. “Darkness has hierarchy. Power is not shared. It is meted out by the Master. And when the Master says no, the answer is no,” alpha male Supreme Leader Kylo growls.

 

Rey looks more excited than alarmed. She looks smug too since she’s got him teaching Darkness despite his intention to the contrary. Time to teach her a real lesson, he decides.

 

Kylo drags Rey a few steps forcibly to throw her face down over the table they were sitting at. He leans his weight onto her in a wrestlers’ hold with her arm twisted behind her and held fast. Bending down to her ear he urges harshly, “Yield.”

 

“No.”

 

“Lesson one of Darkness is obedience. Do not disobey the Master or suffer his wrath,” he warns. Then Kylo leans hard with all his superior weight and strength into Rey. He could easy snap her arm or dislocate her shoulder if he wanted. But he doesn’t want to hurt her, so he immediately eases up. Kylo has made clear his dominance.  That’s her cue to back down and this standoff can be over and done with.

 

Truth be told, Kylo revels in their physical contact. His legs against hers. His hips against her backside. She’s pinned and suddenly that’s hot. Really hot. He can feel his body start to respond as Rey squirms against him.

 

“Obedience means that the Apprentice submits.” Kylo rasps. And he can’t help it. The intimacy of their posture has him pressing closer into her. Because her slight curves are driving him wild. The memory of their torrid night together has him remembering the pleasure of her flesh and lusting for more.  But his goal now is to scare her. To intimidate her. So, he snarls in her ear as he leans in hard. “You know I can take whatever I want.”

 

And damn, if Rey doesn’t moan.

 

That’s not the reaction he was aiming for.

 

Is it her violence that is turning her on or his violence? Kylo isn’t sure. And now, he’s a little flustered. But he doubles down on his strategy. “Yield and I will set you free.”

 

“No.” And now she is wiggling with determination.  And does she want to get free or doesn’t she?  What sort of mixed message is she sending now?

 

Gods, now he is rock hard with need.  Suddenly, he’s the one at a disadvantage. “Yield!” he demands as he abruptly flips her over, pinning her hands to the table. Their closeness is even more intimate now. His legs between hers, nestled up close. Surely, she must feel his arousal. Kylo doesn’t know if he should feel humiliated or not.

 

Is she laughing at him? She’s not. She looks especially kissable now. But defiant. Very defiant. With wide eyes and flushed cheeks and panting, slightly parted lips.

 

“Yield!”

 

“No. Fuck you!” Rey spits out.

 

He could follow through on her words. He could unzip right now and hike up her skirt and fuck her. He could teach her the lesson that she should have yielded when he gave her the opportunity. He could slake his urgent lust and show her the dominance of a Dark Master. She won’t dare threaten to leave him again.

 

Yes, he needs this, he decides as he smothers her cursing mouth with his own. He will revisit the rapture of her warm, slick, tight body sheathing his. He falls asleep to memories of Rey screaming out ‘Ben!’ as their newly partnered naked selves somehow managed to slip into oblivion simultaneously. No chanting crowd on Empire Day had ever made him feel more the conquering stud.

 

She’s really squirming and thrashing now. Some part of him revels in her fierce fight. It eggs him on. In response, Kylo holds her wrists tighter and grinds against her hard. He’s impatient with their clothes as barriers between them. Kylo is done with all this pantomime foreplay and ready for the real deal.

 

He has never asserted himself over Rey like this before. He has invaded her mind without permission but never her body. And so, as he’s ready to actually do this, he has second thoughts. The momentary pause blooms quickly to a full-blown attack of conscience.

 

Because what the fuck is he doing??

 

Suddenly, panting Kylo lurches back and releases her. He and Rey are combustible personalities normally in their opposing Light and Dark mindsets.  But how ugly are things going to get if they are both Dark? If this is any indication, he’s worried. Very worried.

 

What the fuck is he doing??

 

He doesn’t want it to be like this. He’s no sadist. He never wanted to be an abuser like Snoke. His old Master’s fits of lightning and tongue lashings actually pale in comparison to this.  Kylo is suddenly appalled at what almost transpired. What the Hell is he thinking using sex as punishment? That’s not how he wants things between them.

 

Kylo is ashamed, deeply ashamed at how abruptly he and Rey have taken a toxic, Dark turn he didn’t see coming.

 

He reaches down for her, hauling her up to clasp her to him. “Rey,” he whispers her name into her hair. “I never want to hurt you. You know that, right?”

 

She says nothing.  She just stands there unresponsive in his embrace.  Is she livid?  Stunned?  He can’t tell.  He’s never been good with people, but Rey is especially hard to read these days.  Her moods can shift dramatically without warning. 

 

“I just want to be with you and to love you. I want to help you,” he tries again.

 

Those last words get through.  “Then teach me Darkness,” Rey begs into his chest. “I need a teacher. You said it yourself years ago--”

 

“But this isn’t you!” Kylo raises the same old objection. They’ve been over this before.  He worries that if Rey embraces Darkness things will get worse, not better. “Rey, you are not Dark. This isn’t you!”

 

“It is now.”  She pulls back from his arms and pleads.  “Help me understand this. Help me use it.  I will do whatever you ask.” The desperation behind her choked words comes through loud and clear.  Kylo hates seeing her like this.  It’s the very opposite of the self-assured scavenger who stared him down from an interrogation chair . . . and won.  That young woman would never have thrown the four guards to their death on a whim.

 

“You don’t know what you are asking,” Kylo growls.

 

“I need help!” Rey wails as tears start to leak out.  And, frankly, it’s hard to argue with that assessment.  But normally, you come to Darkness with a cause. Maybe it’s vengeance.  Maybe it’s lust for position, for fame, or for glory.  But always, the Apprentice has a goal in mind for which he needs power to achieve.  Except Rey wants none of that. She seeks Dark knowledge as a haven out of despair. And given what has transpired, Kylo feels he ought to give her what she wants.  Because playing at holochrons doesn’t seem to be working.  If anything, Rey is getting worse.

 

“Alright,” he relents. “Let’s try something.”  He has an idea.

 

Kylo takes Rey by the hand and leads her into the kitchen. Rooting around, he digs up a few glasses and several water bottles. “You will open the bottles with the Force and pour them into the glasses.  Do not use your hands.  Only your mind.”

 

Rey looks to him in dismay.  Like he’s asking the impossible.  They both know that this task requires far more finesse than Rey currently has. She uses the Force for rough, large movements. This sort of refinement is far more difficult than Force pushing praetorians off the terrace.

 

“I can’t do this,” she complains as more tears threaten.

 

“It’s not what you’re doing so much as how you are doing it,” Kylo explains patiently.  He grabs one of the glasses and crashes it hard against the table, shattering it.  Kylo selects a large jagged piece of the resulting mess. Taking care to hold it in his non-dominant left hand, he reaches for Rey’s left hand as well.  Then, he clasps their hands together around the glass shard and squeezes hard.

 

“Owww!” Rey reacts to the pain of the glass cutting her palm.

 

“Don’t worry,” he assures her softly, “I feel it too.”  But that’s enough. Kylo relents and releases her to throw down the glass piece. Her palm is cut and bleeding, and so is his. Both wounds are superficial, but they will serve the purpose. Kylo clasps his bleeding hand with hers again. Staring deep into Rey’s yellow eyes, he squeezes tight.

 

“Feel that pain,” he rasps. “Feel its sharpness.  Feel its bite.”

 

She nods.

 

“That is not pain. That is power for the taking. Every hurt you have experienced, every loss you have weathered, all the scorn you have endured, all the deprivation you have survived. It makes you Darker and more powerful.”  This is the manifesto of the Dark Side:  that which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.  “Use your pain,” Kylo teaches solemnly.   “Do not repress it.  Summon it, feel it, and use it.  That is the Shadow Force and its power is unlimited.”

 

He releases her hand now. “Go ahead. Try it. It’s easy.” Dark power is shockingly easy. That’s how it lures you in. From the first taste, you are hooked by the sheer effortlessness of it.  “This is the quick and easy path the Jedi warned against.   Dark power requires little discipline to access. But it requires a lot discipline to control. Be careful of Darkness,” Kylo warns sternly, “or it will consume you.   You cannot dabble in Darkness.  That is reckless.  You must be properly trained to use it.”  He gives her a harsh look to underscore his point.  Then, Kylo shares the wisdom every Jedi suspected and every Sith knew:  “Darkness is dangerous.”

 

“That’s why I need a teacher,” she nods. 

 

“Rey,” Kylo holds her gaze as he shares a bitter truth. “There are no teachers on the Dark Side. There are only Masters and servants of Masters.”

 

“You mean the Apprentice?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Rey visibly swallows and then decides, “Then make me your Apprentice.”

 

Again, he cautions against it. “This is not like playing with holochrons. I only know one way to teach Darkness, and that’s how I was taught.  Rey, you don’t know what you are asking of me . . . or of yourself.”

 

He’s giving a warning but she hears a challenge.  Rey lifts her chin.  “I can do it.”

 

“I don’t want you to do this,” he concedes flatly. “But impress me with these water bottles and I will consider it.”

 

She looks pleased, but in truth his comment is a punt. Because Kylo doesn’t know what to do. And he fears making a terrible mistake that will ruin his hope for balance and destroy the scavenger Senator he’s crazy about.  With one last worried glance at Rey, Kylo stalks off.  First, he’s going to alert the Palace guard to the four dead praetorians somewhere below.  Next, he’s going to brood.  The decision whether to take Rey on as Apprentice is ripe now, he realizes.  He can’t avoid this any longer.

 

An hour later, Kylo wanders back into the kitchen to check on Rey. She is sitting on the floor concentrating hard on the one water bottle left on the table. As he enters, she is shakily pouring it into a glass, spilling much of it in the process.  Rey looks up as he appears and loses her concentration. The bottle falls, splashes everywhere, and lands on the floor beside the others.

 

The kitchen is a mess of glass and water.  But still, Kylo is impressed. “Well done,” he approves.

 

Rey stands to her feet. “So, you will teach me??” she asks hopefully.

 

He frowns at the fresh blood still dripping from her clenched left hand. Kylo marches over to investigate.  That scratch shouldn’t be bleeding still.  He grabs for Rey’s hand and she opens it to reveal a glass shard she is holding.

 

“Pain,” she explains the obvious, looking a bit sheepish.  “It really does help focus me.”

 

“You don’t need glass,” Kylo chides her softly. “You have Jakku.”

 

Inspecting the new lacerations on her palm, Kylo has an idea. It’s his turn to concentrate deeply now.  Only he is reaching for the Light and not the Dark.  It’s still so hard because his reflex is always to reach for Dark power.  But it helps that Rey is standing here now, in distress and needing him.  So, Kylo thinks of Rey.  Of her trust in him.  Of how much he cares for her.  Of his compassion for her situation. And then . . . he feels the blissful rush. The Light comes through.  Kylo is calm and deliberate now as he mimics the Force healing lessons he has watched on Jedi holochrons.

 

Will it work? It does.  Like magic, the jagged bloody mess on Rey’s left hand disappears. Her hand heals in an instant to appear completely unharmed.

 

“Oh!” she gasps in delight. “It’s a miracle!” she exclaims.  Then she smiles at him. It’s the first genuine smile he’s seen from Rey in weeks now. He can’t help but return it in kind.

 

He’s pretty amazed himself. Kylo knew he could feel the Light because he can now open Jedi holochrons. But here is proof that he can use the Light, too. That’s a monumental step forward towards balance, he knows. But Kylo brushes that realization away to focus on Rey now.

 

“All better,” he soothes her, as if she’s a child. And then again, he pulls her in for a hug. She looks so in need of comforting.  She’s far more fragile than fierce these days.  That deeply concerns him.

 

How Kylo wishes he could heal more than just the superficial scratches on her hand. If he could, he would heal Rey’s yellow eyes and shield his beloved from the rigors of Darkness. But she’s right that she needs help. She needs to learn to control her Dark urges before they become self-destructive.  Because if not directed outward, Darkness can feed on itself, consuming its host. Teaching Rey might save her from herself. And, at the very least, it can teach her skills to cope. Because those yellow eyes show no signs of disappearing any time soon. The training she’s asking for is reasonable under the circumstances.

 

But still . . . Kylo has misgivings.  He does not want to lead Rey down a path that will be her undoing. Dark training could destroy the best of Rey and leave behind only the less desirable parts.   Plus, who knows if he will be a good teacher?   Quite frankly, Kylo fears he is not up to the task.  His only examples are Luke Skywalker and Snoke.   Moreover, he and Rey are not the normal Master and Apprentice pairing.  For one, they are far too evenly matched in power.  And, there is the issue that they are lovers.  The issues that circumstance could raise are especially daunting.  Kylo thinks back to what happened earlier on the terrace table and grimaces.  Yes, he decides, training Rey is a bad idea.

 

But still . . . he was the one to uproot Rey from Dantooine and drag her back into his life, telling her she could be so much more than a droid factory quality control supervisor. And for a time, she was. But now, she’s falling apart. Kylo feels responsible.  He’s only ever wanted to empower Rey.  And look at what she has been reduced to.

 

“Please teach me.” Rey’s voice is muffled into his chest. But still so desperate and beseeching.

 

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” he defers a decision yet again.  “Go to bed, Rey.”  He kisses her forehead before he goes back to his brooding.

 

Can he do this?  Teaching the Dark Side is not for the squeamish.  Traditionally, the training always begins with breaking down the Apprentice.  Then, with discovery of knowledge through the Force and self-discovery of inner strength through suffering, they are refashioned to be born again.  That is why the tradition of the Sith was to take a new name as you began your new life on the Dark Side.  Because once the Apprentice emerged from the training, they were forever changed in ways that matter, with a soul forged strong and valiant through Darkness. The trial period when an Apprentice experiences physical pain, powerlessness, and self-doubt is critical and cannot be skipped.  For it fuels the lust for power that is the essence of a Dark warrior.  Pain is power, as the old Sith saying goes. 

 

But Rey has already seen her Dark times on Jakku.  The preliminary work was already done by others long before him, Kylo decides.  His scavenger girl has suffered enough, and he wants to end that suffering rather than prolong it.  That’s not the usual motivation for Dark training, but it’s the truth.  In some ways, teaching Rey how to cope with her situation seems like the kind and merciful thing to do.  And that too seems the antithesis of the usual impetus for the Master-Apprentice relationship.    All of this just seems off.  Like he’s taking a proud, time-honored tradition and turning it on its head to suit their circumstances.  And that feels risky.  More and more, the boundaries of Light and Dark are blurred by him and Rey.

 

In the end, Kylo arrives at his conclusion by going back to his original motivations.  He has only ever wanted to help Rey and to help himself in the process.   He made her a Senator and empowered her to act independently according to her values.  In doing so, Rey was to be the Light in his world and in his Empire.  Ultimately, she was to become his counterbalance in the Force.  And, once she could be convinced to join him, they would rule together.

 

The goal was always a happily-ever-after win-win. 

 

And so, if he’s going to train her as the Apprentice, they are both going to get something out of it. Kylo decides he will get the physical connection he craves and the emotional commitment he needs. And Rey will be taught by a Dark Master who will bend the rules and pull his punches so that she remains safe and protected at all times. In the end, they will grow together from this, he plots. They will be allies, like he has always intended, whether that means Rey is Light and he is Dark, or they are both Dark. Because if he has to, Kylo will give up his dream of balance for Rey.   And, if need be, he will eschew his concept of them living as equals.  After all, a good leader adapts to the circumstances he finds.  And, well, maybe the fairytale of his co-ruling Light Side Force princess bride was a bit idealistic anyhow. 

 

Kylo has been awake much of the night deliberating. So, in the morning he takes a shower to wake himself up. But he’s resolved now on his course of action. Still wrapped in his bathrobe, he knocks to enter Rey’s room. She’s awake but still in bed.

 

“Well?” She sits up. Her puffy eyes betray that she’s been crying.  “Will you teach me?” she asks.

 

Kylo stares hard at Rey, wondering for the umpteenth time whether this is a mistake.  He’s less sure of this decision than any other quandary of his life.

 

“I’m not afraid,” she whispers to encourage him as she swings her legs over the side of the bed.

 

But Kylo responds knowingly, having been the Apprentice himself. “You will be,” he warns bluntly. “You will be.” Dark power should not be underestimated. Throwing four praetorians to their deaths is just the beginning.

 

“Oh.” Rey looks fair warned now. But she is undeterred. Looking up at him, she says, “I trust you,” and she means it. And that encourages him.  At least one of them thinks he can do this Dark Master role well.

 

Does she know what she’s signing up for? No, Kylo thinks. The Apprentice never does.

 

Does he know what’s he’s signing up for either? No. Not really. He’s making this up as he goes along, cutting corners and subverting the traditional dynamic to fit his own goals for their personal relationship. This will either be the best thing or the worst thing he’s ever done, Kylo knows.  But, here goes . . .

 

With a deep breath, he begins in a formal, declaratory tone.  “You become the Apprentice with a pledge and a show of subservience. Both must be freely given. Darkness is a choice,” Kylo now passes down his own Master’s wisdom in the age-old tradition of the Shadow Force. For Dark knowledge is passed down from Master to Apprentice, generation after generation.  Anything that is not taught to an Apprentice must be discovered anew or is forever lost.

 

Kylo gestures to the floor and Rey takes the cue. She scrambles off the bed to kneel before him. And just look, he realizes.  From the get-go, things are already deviating from the norm. Rey is not fresh from a kill like is typical. Instead, she’s fresh from bed. Her hair down and streaming about her shoulders. Sleep in the corners of her eyes still. There is no blood on her garments and she’s not holding a weapon to symbolically surrender at his feet. This morning, she’s wearing a faded t-shirt and panties. Looking rather puny and defenseless actually. But looks deceive because this girl is powerful. Her power in the Force is only matched by her power over him. And that’s what makes this Master and Apprentice relationship so different from all the rest. This Master is far more invested in his student than he should be.  And in ways that are wholly inconsistent with the tradition they now ape.

 

On her knees, Rey bows her head and lowers her eyes as though she were being formally presented in the Palace throne room. “Supreme Leader.”

 

“No,” he corrects, “Master.”

 

“Master,” she quickly amends as she flushes.

 

“Rey.” Kylo steps closer to raise her chin with his hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?” It’s a serious question. She can still back out.

 

But Rey looks determined. “I’m sure.”

 

“You can change your mind whenever you want. Do you understand?” Once again, Kylo is deviating from the traditional script. For the Apprentice position is irrevocable unless or until you ascend to the Master role. The conventional punishment for failing as the Apprentice is death. You don’t get to quit.

 

“I understand.”

 

“So be it,” Kylo decrees.  “I pledge myself to your teachings and to the ways of the Dark Side,” he intones, and Rey faithfully recites the words.  The declaration of Darkness is simple and unqualified.  It’s also impersonal.  The pledge is to Darkness and not to the Dark Master himself.  That reflects the heritage of the Sith, who fully intended that the Apprentice would one day supplant his Master as a violent upstart.  There is no loyalty among the followers of Darkness.

 

There is, however, a hierarchy.  And so, Kylo now prompts Rey, “What is thy bidding, my Master?” Still on her knees, Rey dutifully repeats the words after him. It is the posture of obeisance Vader gave to Sidious and he himself gave to Snoke. But it feels so strange now between him and Rey.  And is it his imagination, or is the Force swirling around them both now?  It’s unnerving.  It feels like the universe is second-guessing him.

 

With a deep breath, Kylo completes the ritual with a request for the Apprentice to submit.  This too will be unconventional.  Kylo now reaches to untie his robe. He completely bare underneath. As the garment parts, Rey’s eyes widen appreciably. Then they raise to his seeking reassurance.

 

He nods and orders, “Please me, Apprentice.”

 

This is her show of subservience. He won’t ask Rey to kill someone she cares for or to betray a friend or a cause. This test is far more intimate as befits their new status to one another. And it fulfills a long-held fantasy of his: Rey on her knees sucking his dick and calling him Master.

 

Rey understands immediately. She looks tentative and timid at first as her hands clasp his legs at the knees and slowly travel up. Her mouth then follows her hands. And, oh, this is glorious. Her warm lips and wet tongue are all over him. Her fingertips give due attention elsewhere as well. And every now and then, she adds just a little scrape of her teeth to keep it dangerous.   He is overwhelmed by the pleasure.

 

Who’s in control? Who’s the vulnerable one? With them, it’s never clear. Even as enemies, their relationship has always been murky. But Kylo is hard, rock hard as he stares down at Rey’s efforts, reaching to stroke her hair. It’s amazing to feel and amazing to watch. He wishes it could go on forever.  But at this rate of excitement, that’s not possible. All too soon, he is sated. The show of dominance is done.

 

“Arise, Apprentice.” Kylo raises Rey to her feet and impulsively envelopes her in his arms.  “Thank you,” he shows unnecessary gratitude for what was due to him as Master. But truth be told, Kylo is more grateful for this woman than she will ever know.  “Get dressed. Put on your red dress.” He loves that red dress. “Look beautiful for me,” Kylo commands. “We have about an hour.”

 

“Are we going somewhere?” she asks blankly.

 

“The lawyer is coming here with a judge.  It will be a private ceremony.”

 

“What for?”  Rey still isn’t following.

 

“We are getting married this morning.”

 

“M-Married?” she whispers hoarsely like perhaps she has misheard. 

 

“Yes. Get ready to love, honor, and obey me,” Kylo smirks.

 

“What?” she chokes.

 

“As my wife, you will promise to love and to honor me. But as my Apprentice, you will promise to obey me.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey looks horrified.  And afraid.

 

He tries to reassure her, “I will love and honor you back, Rey.  All the days of our lives.”

 

She bristles. “I never said anything about marriage!  I want you to teach me Darkness. That has nothing to do with marriage!”

 

“Yes, it does.”  This is how Kylo finally arrived at his decision.  This is how he will hang on to the happily-ever-after fairytale ending.  It’s not enough for Rey to be the Apprentice, she must also be his wife. “You have pledged to Darkness, you have submitted to me, and now you will establish loyalty.” This last bit was omitted completely from the way of the Sith, but it’s essential for him and Rey.  Otherwise, they will end up repeating the cycles of the past.   “I will not train you unless I have your personal commitment. We are not Sith who will ultimately fight each other as rivals. In all things, we will be allies together. Whether you are Dark or Light matters not to me, so long as we are together.”  Kylo told her this once before, and he meant it. 

 

“Join me,” Rey whispers as understanding dawns.  She gets it now.

 

“Yes,” Kylo confirms.   “Join me. I will not teach you Darkness unless you join me in every way. We aren’t playing at holochrons now. Darkness is dangerous.  We need a bond to hold us together, lest it tear us and the galaxy apart.”


	23. Chapter 23

Once Kylo drops his bombshell ultimatum about a wedding, he beats a hasty retreat.  It is ostensibly to get dressed and make some com calls, but Rey suspects it is mostly to let her stew.  An hour later after she has showered and the grooming droid has worked its magic, Rey is looking her best but feeling her worst.  She’s still working through the implications of Kylo’s latest awkwardly ill-timed proposal.  He’s been talking about marriage on and off for a month now.  Rey has been noncommittal at best.  She never actually took him seriously. 

 

That turns out to have been a big mistake. 

 

This is one more way in which the Force ruins everything, Rey decides.  Because when every Force user who isn’t your ally is presumed to be your enemy, you are rushed to choose sides and declare allegiance in dramatic fashion.  Even marriage, apparently. Normally, marriage doesn’t begin the relationship, it culminates the courtship phase. Except for Kylo, who is probably the only man in the universe who knows no fear of commitment.  He jumps right in, that’s for sure.  For a child of divorced parents, Rey thinks Kylo has an awful lot of faith in marriage.  She herself fails to see how getting married will ensure peace between them.  Especially when the marriage begins with them arguing about whether to get married in the first place.  

 

This wedding is just another ploy for control, she realizes.  Now Kylo has even more excuses to exert influence over her under the paternalistic guise of loving husband.  Not that he needs more authority.  Rey has essentially ceded all agency to him as Master already.  

 

How did she get in this position?   Yellow eyes, that’s how.  Rey was on her knees pledging to follow his teaching out of sheer desperation.  Even as she was doing it, she knew she would regret it.  But Rey of Jakku knows all about limited options and choosing between bad choices. This scavenger learned long ago that sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.  Life isn’t always pretty, but you persevere to survive.  And maybe . . . just maybe you can get a better deal in the future.

 

Still, her predicament rankles.  Rey is very frustrated with how manipulated she feels even if this Master-Apprentice arrangement is her choice.  This marriage play goes too far.   She never said anything about marriage.  Rey suddenly feels trapped.   And she tells Kylo that when she marches out of her bedroom and finds him conferring with a no-nonsense black robed judge and very harassed looking woman who Rey recognizes from a prior meeting as the First Order’s general counsel.  

 

“Hello,” Rey tells the two newcomers perfunctorily with barely a glance before she starts unloading on Kylo.  

 

“I’m never getting away from you, am I?” she begins.  “Army keeps warning me about you.  Luke Skywalker warned me about you. You own mother told me to hide from you.  But I can’t seem to get away from you.  And it’s like the more I try, the deeper we get.  And now marriage?   Kylo, this is a terrible idea!   The worst idea ever!”

 

“Ah, here comes the blushing bride,” Kylo smirks at her opening tirade. He looks almost happy.  It’s weird.  Goofy even. And definitely annoying. 

 

“This is not necessary!  You’re taking advantage of the situation,” Rey harangues.  

 

“Naturally,” he admits. “But for good reason. I will not train an enemy.  The only way I’m doing this is if we’re permanently on the same team.”

 

“I’m not your enemy. Not anymore.  Hux is your enemy.  He plots to depose you. Did you know that?”

 

“Of course, I know that.  Hux is all talk.  Has he tried to enlist you to the cause yet?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Kylo looks nonplussed.  “He’s the first of many who will try to turn you against me.  Who will attempt to manipulate you for their own gain.”

 

“You mean like you do,” Rey jeers. 

 

“Yes.”  Kylo is unapologetic. “Take a lesson here. As you grow in stature in my regime and as our relationship becomes known, there will be others who will seek to use you.   I need your loyalty, Rey.”

 

“We don't need to get married for that.”

 

“The commitment matters,” he counters firmly.  “Look, you always wanted a family.  This makes us family,” he cajoles, flashing that half-smirk, half-smile that normally gets her weak in the knees.  

 

But not today.  Rey now thinks of the gravelly voice in her head who calls her daughter and whispers that her family is different than she believes.  Sure, Kylo dismisses it as a lie.  But that claim has Rey more intrigued than she lets on.  Because maybe some part of her family still lives.  But none of the Skywalkers live.  And that is thanks to their prodigal son, her new bridegroom Kylo Ren.  It makes the prospect of joining Kylo’s family hold little appeal.  In fact, it seems more like a death sentence.  

 

So Rey recoils from Kylo’s reasoning. “I wanted my family to come back for me. Not to make a new family with you.”

 

“They’re never coming back.   They’re dead,” Kylo is brutally honest. 

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” she postures.

 

“They’re dead.  And if they weren’t already dead, I would kill them,” Kylo blusters with chilling menace. “Slowly.  They deserve it for how they treated you.”

 

Rey looks away.  Because she knows that if her parents were somehow magically alive, she wouldn’t be looking to kill them.  She would freely forgive them.  Because no matter how horrible they acted, she still craves their love.  Their betrayal is the wound on her psyche that won’t heal.  It’s the void no one and nothing can seem to fill.  Kylo was right when he called it her greatest weakness.  After two years, she’s still not over it. 

 

“Life isn’t fairytales, Rey.  No one’s coming along to rescue you.  You have to rescue yourself with good choices and hard work.”

 

That lecture grates. She raises a cool eyebrow at Kylo. “You’re not a good choice.  In fact, you’re a horrible choice for a husband.”

 

Again, he is brutally honest.  “I’m your only choice.  I will kill any man who seeks to supplant me.  Your friend the Chancellor included.”  Now Kylo shifts from threats to encouragement in a rather bizarre non sequitur.   Leader Ren’s lightning fast mood shifts are legendary, but still jarring even for her.  “Don’t be afraid.  We will be great together. Come on, Rey.  It will be fun.”

 

Fun?  Is he actually serious?  He is.  Embarrassed but adamant still, Rey reaches for her groom’s arm and drags him halfway across the room.  They aren’t out of earshot of the judge and the lawyer by any stretch of the imagination, so Rey whispers hoarsely, “Last time we went to bed, I woke up with Sith eyes.  What’s going to happen if we get married?” 

 

Rey doesn’t think for one moment that this is will be an arms’ length marriage of convenience.  Not when the day starts out with a ritualistic command performance for oral sex before she’s even had her morning cup of caf.  It had been humiliating.  On Jakku, she would not sell her body for food even when she was starving.  But now she prostitutes herself for Kylo’s training in hopes she can save her soul. Because some things are worse than starvation, she fears.  And her steady slide into Darkness has her feeling desperate in a way that extreme hunger never did.  But a wedding means a wedding night and that prospect has Rey petrified.

 

Kylo, on the other hand, just leers and grins. “We’ll make a great disturbance in the Force.”

 

“I’m serious!” she hisses. 

 

“So am I. Your friend in the Unknown Regions may even sense our alliance.”

 

“Don’t joke about that!”

 

“I’m not joking.  I’m hoping he realizes I have a powerful Apprentice wife to contend with now. And then, he’ll leave us alone.”

 

“Do you have an angle on everything?” she complains. 

 

He nods unapologetically.  “Plotting is what I do. Now, if there are no more objections—“

 

“I don’t love you,” Rey blurts out a little too loudly.  She cringes because her voice carries.  But, it’s the truth.  She likes Kylo but she doesn’t love him.  At least, she doesn’t think she does. And that matters.  Rey is no romantic idealistic.  Jakku quashed those girlish fantasies years ago. But still . . . never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine her wedding to be a quid pro quo alliance haggled over beforehand with a lawyer.   It’s all so empty.  No ring, no dress, no excitement, and—most importantly—no love.  So what possible chance do they have of making this work?

 

Kylo, as usual, is undeterred. “You will learn to love me.   You will learn to love, Rey.  I’ll show you if you let me.”  He steps closer and cups her cheek with his hand.  It’s the first and only indication that this marriage is anything other than a strategic alliance.  “Stop pushing me away,” he chides.

 

“I’m not,” Rey wails.  “I want your help.  I just don’t want this.  I don’t see why we need to do this. This seems like we’re rushing things.” 

 

“Maybe we are. But it’s a leap of faith for both of us.  Now, come. Let’s get the formalities out of the way.”   Kylo leads her back to the waiting judge and lawyer who pretend to have seen and heard nothing. “What do you need to know to draw up the paperwork?” Kylo asks the pair.  “I want this done immediately.”

 

“Paperwork?   Why do we need paperwork?” confused Rey complains. 

 

“To make it official.  I’m not just anybody. And neither are you,” Kylo points out. 

 

“But I’m nobody, remember?” 

 

He shoots her a look of reproach.  “You were nobody.  But now you’re a Senator of the Empire and my wife.”

 

“I still don’t understand what we are making official on paper,” she grouses.   More and more, this feels like a business merger, not a wedding.  Despite Kylo’s talk of love, this is the least romantic wedding ever.

 

This time, the lawyer answers.  “Typically, nuptial agreements set for the parties’ expectations for the marriage and for what happens if the marriage dissolves.”

 

“This marriage will not dissolve.   Ever,” Kylo growls with a pointed look at his lawyer. 

 

“Isn’t it bad luck to be talking divorce even before we’re married?” Rey frowns. 

 

“There’s no such thing as luck,” Kylo informs her curtly. “And the marriage cannot be dissolved. ‘Til death do us part,” he declares, sounding very priggish and looking smug.

 

“So, no possibility of divorce?”  The lawyer looks to Kylo for clarification. 

 

“No divorce,” he confirms sternly.

 

“Oh, great,” Rey gripes.  “Does that mean you’re going to execute me instead?” 

 

The comment earns her a scowl from Kylo but the expressions of his two advisors confirm that outcome is their clear expectation. 

 

“To be clear,” Kylo shoots her a serious look, “you can quit being the Apprentice at any time. But you cannot quit being my wife.  This commitment is forever.”

 

“Forever together in the Force?” Rey repeats the phrase she remembers from the Sith books. 

 

“See?” he leers with an impish smirk. “You can be romantic when you try.”

 

“So, there is no need to deal with dissolution of marital property?” the wary lawyer asks. 

 

Rey volunteers, “I don’t own any property.”

 

Kylo nods. “It’s true.  She’s broke.”

 

“In that case, will you be giving her a monthly or quarterly allowance?” the lawyer inquires.  “We can put those details in the agreement, if you wish.”

 

“No,” Kylo decides. “Let her spend what she wants. She spends next to nothing.  She’ll be the cheapest wife ever.”  He turns back to Rey. “I endow you with all my worldly goods.  Go buy yourself a new 24-pack of water to celebrate.”

 

Rey’s eyes narrow while he smirks.  She hates being laughed at, especially for Jakku.  “Fuck you!” she vents.  One more crack like that and she’s shooting lightning at her groom.  “You’d probably drink it anyway,” she accuses.

 

The judge and the lawyer exchange looks, but neither says anything at her profane outburst.  They just wait to see how their boss will react to his unconventional and far from adoring bride. 

 

But Kylo just keeps looking happy.  Like nothing anyone can say will ruin this day for him. 

 

“Well, if there are no dissolution matters to decide, there are just the particulars of the marriage to memorialize,” the nervous lawyer continues.  

 

“We’ll live at the Palace,” Kylo decides. 

 

“Naturally,” the general counsel agrees. 

 

Rey objects.  “I hate that place.”

 

Kylo shrugs. “So do I, but where else am I going to live?”  He turns back to his lawyer. “She will continue to serve in the Senate until I deem otherwise.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“She is officially pardoned for her Resistance past and her stint with Luke Skywalker.”

 

“Er . . . yes.  Of course.”  

 

“Be sure to pardon me for trouncing you on the Starkiller,” Rey adds tartly. 

 

“I let you win,” Kylo retorts.  Then, he turns to his lawyer.  “Anything else?” 

 

“Her title,” the woman suggests. 

 

A title?  Really?  Rey makes a face. “Why do I need a title?”

 

“We need to call you something,” the woman points out. 

 

“Okay. What are my options?”

 

“Do you want to be an Empress?” Kylo asks.  

 

“Not really.”

 

“How about Lady Ren?” the lawyer offers up. 

 

Rey snorts. “I grew up on Jakku. Lady seems a bit uppity for that backstory.”

 

“Madame Ren?” Kylo muses. 

 

Rey dismisses that suggestion immediately. “That sounds old.”

 

He tries again. “Missus Ren?”

 

“That sounds super old.”

 

“How about Supreme Wifey?” he jokes. 

 

It’s snark.  But still, the rare moment of levity from Kylo Ren seems to terrify the judge and the lawyer.   Neither knows what to make of it.  They both appear extraordinarily uncomfortable but are trying hard not to show it. 

 

“Can’t we stick with Senator?” Rey suggests.  “And I thought you said we could keep it a secret?   That no one needs to know we’re married.”

 

“She’s ashamed of me,” Kylo mock laments to his increasingly flustered lawyer. 

 

“It’s true,” Rey confirms. “Your mother and your uncle are howling at us in the Force right now because we’re doing this.”  When Luke had told her things were not going to go the way she thought, boy was he right.  In hindsight, that had been a massive understatement. 

 

“How am I going to explain you if you’re not my wife?   Are you my live-in girlfriend?” Kylo looks perplexed.

 

“Why do you need to explain me?” Rey counters.  “I can be like your secret police.  Everyone knows they exist, but they do not officially exist.”

 

“Fine,” Kylo agrees.  “My wife does not officially exist.  Now draw up the papers today so she can sign them.  That way it will be official even if she does not officially exist.”

 

“Yes, Sir. One more thing.  What is your full name?” the lawyer asks Rey.

 

“Rey. R-E-Y.”

 

“And your surname?”

 

“I don’t have one.”

 

“She’s an orphan,” Kylo intervenes.   “She doesn’t remember the parents who sold her at age four.”   He shoots Rey a sympathetic look.  “From now on, you can have my surname, babe.”

 

“Which one?  Ren or Solo?”

 

“Solo. Ren is a title.  And you don’t like titles.  We just went over that.”

 

“Oh.  Ren is a title.  Who knew?” she blinks.

 

Kylo turns back to his lawyer. “Anything else?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“Then let’s do this, Judge.  I’m late for a meeting.  Say the words so we can be done.”

 

“Join hands please.”  The crusty looking jurist who Rey assumes is bought and paid for by the First Order launches right into the vows.  “Rey, do you take Obi-wan Skywalker Organa Solo, the Master of the Knights of Ren, the Prince of Alderaan, and the Supreme Leader of the Second Galactic Empire, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?” 

 

“Wait—Ben is a nickname?”  Rey didn't know that. 

 

Kylo makes a face. “The name was Uncle Luke’s bad idea.  So was the nickname.”

 

Now, it’s Rey’s turn to smirk.  “You have an awful lot of names.”

 

“Just say yes and you’ll have two of your very own,” Kylo reminds her.

 

Looking up into to his long, expressive face, Rey again whispers the truth.  “Oh, Kylo, I really think this is a bad idea.”

 

“The second Death Star was a bad idea.  This is a good idea,” he persists.

 

But so does she.  “You don’t really want to marry me.”

 

“Of course, I do. I’ve wanted to marry you since you told Snoke not to underestimate me.”  Kylo flashes an ugly sneer. “Snoke should have listened.  Because together, we’re unstoppable, babe.”   Now, Kylo nods over to the judge.  “Say the words again.  Let’s do this, Rey.”

 

The officiant takes the prompt.  “Rey, do you take Obi-wan Skywalker Organa Solo to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?” 

 

Everyone is looking at her expectantly now.  But nervous Rey shifts her weight and hesitates.  

 

Should she do this?  

 

Is being Kylo’s wife any worse than the Apprentice role she has volunteered for?

 

“I need time to think about this,” she stalls.

 

“No, you don’t.  Time’s up.  Does this help encourage you?” Kylo drops her hand, pulls his sword, and lights it.  He lowers his chin and lowers his voice and rasps, “I grow tired of asking, so this will be the last time.  Join me, Rey.  In the Force and in life.  Forever.”

 

The judge and the lawyer jump and look scared at the appearance of Kylo’s iconic weapon, but that tactic doesn’t impress Rey.  “Seriously?  Seriously??” she shrieks.  “Kylo, put that thing away!” she orders, ironically sounding very wife-like.

 

Kylo pouts.  “Not until you say yes.”

 

“Doesn’t coercion negate my consent?” she challenges, looking to the professionals in attendance. “How is this possibly legal??”

 

Kylo fixes a hard look on first his lawyer and then his judge.   Then, he twirls the lit sword he’s holding.  “Is this legal?” he asks with expectant raised eyebrows.

 

“Yes,” the two advisors dutifully yelp in unison. 

 

“Come on, babe,” Kylo outright whines now as he turns off his lightsaber.  “I’m crazy about you. Say yes.”

 

“Oh, alright.  Yes.  I guess.  Whatever,” she grumbles.

 

Kylo beams.  

 

“Obi-wan Skywalker Organa Solo, do you take Rey to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?”

 

“Yes,” Kylo answers emphatically like he’s Army Hux bellowing from his Senate rostrum. 

 

“Then by the power vested in me by the sovereign world of Coruscant and by the authority granted by the Second Galactic Empire, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”   

 

“Is that it?  Are we done?”  Kylo asks impatiently. 

 

“Yes, Sir.  Done. Congratulations.  You may kiss the bride.”

 

Kylo correctly reads her hostile expression and takes the hint. “That can wait,” he decides. “We will celebrate tonight.  Besides, I’m late for a meeting.  Dismissed both of you.”

 

The lawyer and judge depart as told, leaving her alone with Kylo.  Her gleeful new husband Kylo.  Rey swallows hard.  This is the worst wedding ever.  Great.  She’s making one bad decision after another now.

 

Kylo clearly senses her Darkening mood. “Rey, we will talk tonight—“

 

“Someone else is here,” she observes coldly, looking over his shoulder out onto the terrace. 

 

Kylo turns and waves in the latest arrival.   She is a very dignified woman of late middle age with hair more grey than brown and eyes that look astute but not unkind.   “You’re late,” Kylo barks at her.

 

Apparently, she’s accustomed to this treatment.  The woman simply nods.  “There was a water pipe situation to attend to, Sir.”

 

Kylo ignores the excuse and starts issuing orders rapidly.  “This is Rey. She’s the Senator-at-Large for the Outer Rim. She’s been living here in the apartment. Move her into the Palace today.”

 

“Yes, Sir.  One of the guest rooms?”

 

“No. My bedroom.  Be discreet. Her existence is on a need-to-know basis.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Kylo turns back to fuming Rey. He is anxious to be away, so his manner is anything but lover like.  “Get settled in the Palace and sign the papers when they’re ready.  It’s done.  There’s no backing out of this,” he warns, waving a finger under her nose.  “Accept it.”

 

“So that’s it?” Rey gulps.  It feels so anticlimactic.  She’s sold scrap on Jakku in deals that felt more momentous and permanent.  But this has that same feel. Like a business transaction in which she got cheated. 

 

“Yes, that’s it.   We’ll talk tonight.  First, I have some things to attend to.  The galaxy doesn’t rule itself.”  Kylo looks her over one last time, seemingly very pleased.  “This is good, Rey.  One day, you will look back on this day and see that this was a good decision. For you, for me, and for everyone.”  Then, with a swish of black robes, Leader Ren whirls and starts striding for the terrace.  

 

That leaves Rey alone with the newcomer. The woman introduces herself as Mrs. Faris, the Palace housekeeper.  She looks Rey over in silence for a long moment that seems uncomfortable for them both.   

 

“Senator,” the older woman begins. 

 

“Call me Rey.”

 

“Of course.  Rey, please show me the things to be moved.  I’ll get someone over this morning to get them packed.”

 

“There isn’t much.”

 

“Lead the way, please.” 

 

Mimicking the housekeeper’s distant professionalism to mask her embarrassment, Rey dutifully shows the woman the water bottles in the pantry, in the hall closet, and under the sink.  Also, the drawers full of protein bars.   As far as Rey is concerned, these are the most valuable things she owns and she refuses to leave them behind.

 

“Is that all?” the housekeeper inquires politely. She doesn’t ask why Rey has her unusual survival stash, and Rey is grateful for her tact. 

 

“Yes, that’s it.  Kylo drank down a case and a half of water while he was here,” Rey grumbles.  “He knows I hate it when he drinks my water.  But he does it anyway.”

 

The woman tries again.  “Perhaps you have some personal things that we should bring along as well?”

 

“Oh.  Yes, I forgot. I have some clothes.”  Pausing a moment to sigh, Rey admits, “I’m a little rattled this morning.  I’m sorry.  I’m not usually like this.”  It’s not every day she gets married.  And in such a dissatisfying manner.  All the hope and joy that should accompany her wedding day is absent.   That makes the occasion strangely sad.  Suddenly, hot tears flood Rey’s eyes.  She blinks them back out of habit.  She learned long ago that tears don’t solve problems.

 

“Are you alright?” the older woman asks quietly, looking concerned.

 

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Rey replies automatically.  It’s a lie, of course. 

 

Rey feels befuddled and strangely passive.  For in the wake of Kylo’s exit, her anger has dissipated fast.  Darkness is equal parts fits of rage and bouts of sadness for her, Rey has learned.  And it is draining.  Rey is less empowered than she is depleted most days.  And now, she is not only Dark, but she is married to Darkness.  Suddenly, without warning, she is the young bride to a galactic despot who engenders as much contempt as he does fear. 

 

It’s been a long strange journey to get to this point.  And that has Rey very worried for what’s coming next.   Her life has spiraled out of control.  She is losing who she is.  The manicured and primped woman with yellow eyes who just married Kylo Ren is a far cry from the ponytailed droid factory tech with a Resistance past who was doing fine on her own on Dantooine. 

 

“If you will just show me the rest—” the housekeeper prompts her softly.  The words break Rey’s reverie and she takes the hint to resume the task at hand.

 

Rey directs the woman into her bedroom.  She opens the closet door to reveal her few workday Senator dresses, all identical but for the colors.  Also, her few business casual outfits Army had deemed ‘too intern’ to be worn.  All in all, it’s probably twelve pieces of clothing total. 

 

The housekeeper steps forward to assess the situation.  She rifles through the garments, pushing them aside until she reaches the two fancy dresses hanging at the end.  The woman pauses at the slinky white cocktail dress from Hux’s birthday party and the sparkly white gown from Empire Day.  They are by far the most expensive things Rey owns.  They are memorable too, apparently. 

 

“I thought that was you,” the housekeeper muses as she turns back to Rey, “but I wasn’t sure.  I didn’t remember your unusual eyes from the pictures. But I remember the dresses. You were photographed in these dresses.  I saw the pictures on the holonet.”   Mrs. Faris fixes Rey with a serious look. “You’re General Hux’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

 

“Army and I are friends,” Rey answers.   “Just friends.   He’s a mentor of sorts for me,” she adds. 

 

The housekeeper shoots her a knowing look. Then she says baldly, “The Leader hates Hux.”

 

“Yes,” Rey confirms.  “Yes, he does.”

 

The housekeeper now reveals that she knows plenty about the situation.  Her eyes slant to Rey and watch closely for her reaction.  “The guards said the Chancellor showed up here at the apartment one night demanding to see you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But the Leader threw him out?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The guards said the Hux was lucky to leave with his head,” the woman divulges.  “Those two have a long history.   But I suspect you know that.” 

 

“Yes.”

 

The housekeeper frowns.  Then, she reverts back to the task at hand now. “Are those all the shoes?”

 

Rey looks down at her work boots from the droid factory sitting on the closet floor next to a pair of fashionable boots and her high heeled evening sandals.  Those shoes plus the black flat slippers she’s currently wearing are all she owns.  Her Jakku self views this many options as decadent, but Rey can tell that the housekeeper judges her selection paltry for a supposed First Order glamour girl and Senator.

 

“That’s all.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“There’s the droid.” Rey gestures to her grooming droid charging in the corner. 

 

This too meets with subtle disapproval. “That’s a vintage model.  Wherever did you find it?”

 

“On the Lower Level in a secondhand store. I . . . uh . . . don’t have many credits,” Rey explains sheepishly as she realizes how meager her possessions must appear to a woman who manages a palace.  Anxious to get this over with, miserable Rey yanks open her one drawer of folded clothing.  “This is the rest.”

 

The housekeeper peers in.  Then she reaches for the metal cylinder tucked under Rey’s panties.

 

It’s her lightsaber.

 

The housekeeper looks at it and looks at Rey.  “Here,” she hands over the weapon. “It would be best if you kept this.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Well, it should take no time at all to get you moved,” the housekeeper concludes.   “Perhaps this is an opportunity to upgrade a few things.  With your permission, we can purchase a new droid as befits the Leader’s . . . uh . . . “ the woman stumbles over what to call Rey, “special guest,” she concludes awkwardly.

 

Rey flushes.  “That’s really not necessary.”

 

“I insist.  This one is a bit past its prime.   Now,” the housekeeper inhales a deep breath before she boldly asks, “Are there any belongings you wish us to retrieve from the Chancellor’s apartment?”

 

Rey blinks at the question.  Then she flushes some more.

 

“We can do that discreetly without bringing it to the Leader’s attention,” the older woman says softly.  She clearly thinks Rey is Army’s girlfriend stolen by Kylo Ren.   “Surely, there is more than this to move?”

 

“No,” Rey answers quickly.  “This is it.  And Army and I are just friends.”

 

“Right.  Of course.”  The housekeeper looks around the pretty bedroom they are in.  “The apartment turned out lovely.  I wondered why the Leader wanted it furnished after all this time.  I thought perhaps he was taking on a friend finally.” 

 

Rey outright gripes now.  “I wish I could continue living here instead of the Palace.”

 

“Most women would want to live in a Palace,” the older woman appraises.

 

“I don’t want any of this,” Rey breathes out with vehemence. 

 

The housekeeper gives her a look of sincere sympathy.  “I’m sorry, Rey.”

 

“I hate this,” Rey vents some more.  And maybe that’s an ill-advised comment before Kylo’s personal staff, but Rey is too upset to care.

 

“The Leader can be very cruel,” Mrs. Faris observes slowly.  “Though commandeering his Chancellor’s girlfriend as his own is a new low even for him.  This is different from his normal methods.  Usually, the Leader is violent.  He killed four praetorians just yesterday.  He threw them off the roof with the Force, if you can believe it.”

 

“Yes. I can believe it,” Rey replies glumly, feeling a rush of guilt for her gratuitous violence. 

 

The other woman gives Rey a pointed look.  “Believe everything you have ever heard about the Leader. If it’s not true, it certainly could be true.  He is a very dangerous man.”

 

“I know.”   Oh, how she knows. 

 

And now, the housekeeper starts fishing. She gestures to the weapon Rey is holding.  “I know a lightsaber when I see one.  That sword means you have the magic Force, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I suppose that’s why you are in this position?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You poor girl. You’re so young.  If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” The woman keeps pressing for information.

 

“I’m twenty-two.”

 

“Then you’re too young for both of them,” the housekeeper declares.  “You should be out playing the field and having fun being young.  Life catches up with you soon enough.  You should enjoy it carefree while you can.”

 

Rey says nothing in reply. There’s nothing carefree about her life and never has been.

 

“Let’s go to the Palace so I can show you around,” the housekeeper concludes matters.  “I will send someone to attend to this.”

 

Now, Rey, the two remaining praetorians, and the housekeeper pile into a speeder for the short flight to the Palace.  Once they arrive, it’s clear that Mrs. Faris has status.  From the uniformed guards who patrol the grounds to the liveried professional staff who stalk the crowded hallways, everyone treats the woman with respect.  In turn, she greets them all by name.  She’s clearly the mother hen of the Palace, and she relishes her role. 

 

The housekeeper conducts Rey through a cursory review of the public areas of the massive Imperial Palace complex.  These are the corridors of power where decisions are made and policy enacted.  The adjacent Senate building might be equally impressive, but it’s far less consequential.  For everyone knows that in the First Order, the Senate is an afterthought.  The real business of ruling the galaxy occurs here under the watchful eye of the Supreme Leader.

 

The tour is almost concluded when the group rounds a corner and happens upon Chancellor Hux with his Chief of Staff and several of his usual entourage in tow.     

 

“Rey!”  Army stops in his tracks and waves the others off as he approaches, boldly stepping past the two praetorians who lead Rey’s party.  “Are you okay?” He pulls Rey off to the side of the busy hallway as he looks her over. “You haven’t been in the office in over a week.”

 

“I’m fine,” she croaks out.  The response is becoming something of a mantra for Rey.  Like if she says it enough, it will come true. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Army demands, his eyes searching hers.    “Tell me you’re here at a meeting.”

 

“Uh . . . I’m uh . . . “

 

Army’s eyes narrow and then flit over to the two praetorians and the Palace housekeeper.  “You’re not here at a meeting, are you?”

 

“No, I’m not.”   Rey flashes a weak, rueful smile. “I guess I live here now,” she reveals as she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear.

 

“Oh, Rey. No, Rey, no,” Army moans aloud.  “Awww, damn,” he swears, which is something of a novelty. “You really can’t get away from him, can you?”

 

Rey stiffens, very aware of their onlookers listening in. “Army, it’s my choice,” And it’s the right choice under the circumstances.  Because she will do anything to learn to manage this Darkness that drags at her soul.  Once, she had thought the Light to be her defining characteristic.   But it turns out that self-preservation is. Because despite her aspirations to heroic self-sacrifice, Rey finds that she will gladly compromise her principles to live. 

 

Army looks appalled.  “I’m sorry.”

 

Rey looks away.  “I’m sorry, too.”

 

Army now leans in close to speak under his breath.  “Remember what I said.  When you’re done with him, I’ll be waiting.” He’s choosing his words carefully.  Army meets her eyes and repeats, “When you’re ready, we can help each other.”

 

Rey pulls away.  “Please don’t talk like that.”  She wants no part of his coup conspiracies.

 

But Army persists even as the praetorians close ranks around her.  “Remember,” he tells her in a comment that is sure to be misunderstood, “I will be waiting for you.”

 

“Senator,” the housekeeper now intervenes.  “We should get going.   Good day, Chancellor,” the older woman not-so-subtlely ends the interaction.  She resumes her Palace tour with determination and a frankly pitying glance Rey’s direction.

 

A few minutes later, the housekeeper has dismissed the praetorians and she and Rey are alone inside the private areas of the Palace.  This is Kylo’s personal lair, Rey knows from her prior visits.  She listens  in stone faced silence as the housekeeper keeps narrating her tour. 

 

“There are two main wings.  To the left are the service areas.  The kitchen, housekeeping, and laundry.  You won’t be spending any time in there.   We keep a sentient staff in the Leader’s private quarters day and night.  You only need to summon assistance.” Rey dutifully nods and is whisked away to continue the tour.   “To the right down this hallway is the private wing.  These are the Leader’s personal rooms.  This is the gym.”  Rey looks in on the giant room where she once had a mock lightsaber duel with Kylo. “He’s in here most mornings with his sword slicing droids.  Sometimes he spars with the praetorians,” Rey is told.

 

Next, she is shown the Leader’s cluttered private office with the balcony where he once stole a kiss. It connects to a small conference room in the back.  “He works in here exclusively at night.  During the day, he uses an office adjacent to the throne room,” the housekeeper reports.  “Our Leader works a lot.”  Yes, Rey knows.  She rarely sees him without his datapad and comlink.

 

“There are six bedrooms down this corridor.  The two adjoining his-and-hers master suites are on the right,” Rey is told as she is conducted down a wide hallway that looks vaguely familiar, “each with a separate bath.  Off to the left are four additional bedrooms,” the housekeeper announces.

 

“For guests?” Rey assumes.

 

“Oh, no. The Leader never hosts guests. I believe they were intended for family.  This whole wing was originally designed with a family in mind actually,” the older woman reveals.  “But it’s always ever been just him.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey is still processing the housekeeper’s words.  “He built his Palace for a family . . . ”

 

“Supposedly, there was a girlfriend at the time the war ended.  None of us ever met her. They must have broken up before the Palace was finished.  He never speaks of her.”

 

Rey’s ears perk up.  “A girlfriend?”

 

“She was from Dantooine.  That’s all I know. Rumor has it . . . well, you don’t need to hear rumors,” the housekeeper’s voice trails off.

 

“Rumor has it that he killed her, right?” Rey persists.  The housekeeper looks horrified, which tells Rey that she has guessed correctly.  “It’s okay,” Rey sighs.  “I know who he is.  I know who he was, too.  Long ago . . .”

 

“Let me show you the living rooms,” Mrs. Faris changes the subject fast.  She conducts Rey through several interconnected lounge areas.  Like the office, these rooms have spectacular floor-to-ceiling views of the cityscape.  But unlike the office, they appear unfinished and unused.  Like no one goes here so no one ever bothered to make them their own.  These spaces have none of the warmth and whimsy of the Clone Wars era apartment Rey has grown to love.  They are starkly furnished, with a bland and repetitive color scheme and a spare aesthetic that work better for photographs than for real life.   Someone put in bare minimum creativity and it shows.  Rey is weirdly reminded of the throne room.  Because it all strikes her as uncomfortable and empty, and very institutional looking. 

 

The housekeeper correctly reads her underwhelmed reaction.  “I think the Leader was planning on letting the girlfriend do the decorating.  These rooms stood empty until about a year ago when he agreed to let me fill it up a little.  I thought it would help make it seem less lonely.”  That comment alone betrays volumes about what this woman sees and knows. Rey meets the housekeeper’s eyes and she confides, “Leader Snoke was the same way.  Very reclusive.  Ultra-private.  I served him for ten years and never knew him.  He lived like a ghost on the _Supremacy_.  It was . . . strange.”

 

“Tell me more about the girlfriend,” Rey requests.  She could care less about old dead Snoke.  Suddenly, she is very curious to know what the Palace knows about her.

 

“There’s nothing more to tell.   When we were in the construction phase, the architect told me that the Leader designed this wing with a family in mind because he had a secret girlfriend in hiding on Dantooine.”  The housekeeper shrugs.  “Whoever she was, she broke his heart.  Because when we moved in and I suggested we decorate the Empress bedroom, he looked ready to murder me.  To this day, that room is still empty.  So are all the other bedrooms.”

 

Rey nods slowly.  “She disappointed him.” Rey looks away, recalling with awful clarity that pivotal moment when Kylo, her savior hero fresh from the fight with Snoke’s guards, had held out a gloved hand and offered her power.   A true Sith would never have done that.  But the latest Skywalker Chosen One would.    Because Kylo needed help and wanted company.   But all Rey understood at the time was that her friends would die.  In the end, they did die.  But Kylo—or maybe it was the Force—got his way.  Because here she is, years later joining Kylo after all.

 

“He offered her everything.  She turned him down,” Rey recalls aloud. 

 

The housekeeper’s eye narrow at this intelligence. “He told you?”

 

Rey nods.  “She turned him down and fled to the Resistance.”

 

“Then she’s dead,” the older woman surmises, shaking her head.  “Poor girl.”

 

“Oh, she’s not dead.  Not yet,” Rey grumbles.

 

Before the housekeeper can follow up on that comment, two Palace workers appear with Rey’s belongings and her survival stash.  “Put the Senator’s personal things in the Empress bedroom,” Mrs. Faris instructs.  “The water and the foodstuffs can go in the kitchen.”

 

Rey balks.  “Actually, if it’s okay, can we put the water and the protein bars in the bedroom?” she asks weakly.

 

The housekeeper raises an eyebrow.  “Is that necessary?”

 

“Yes.  Please.  I’m from the Rim.  From Jakku.”  Rey is red faced as she awkwardly explains, “There were some lean times and so I like to keep some provisions on hand . . . it helps me feel secure . . . “

 

“All of it?”  The housekeeper looks askance at the large pile of provisions.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

With a sigh, the disapproving housekeeper relents.  “Go ahead.” 

 

Once the men are done unloading, the housekeeper hangs around.  She has started to thaw a little. Her erroneous perception of Rey’s predicament arouses compassion clearly.  So does her very obvious low opinion of Supreme Leader Ren.  “I’ll just help you get settled,” Mrs. Faris volunteers as she begins to assist Rey in hanging up her wardrobe in the enormous empty closet built for Kylo Ren’s wife.  “You have this in several colors,” the woman observes as she begins hanging the first of several Senator dresses. 

 

“Army likes that dress,” Rey nods.    

 

“It’s simple, but pretty,” the housekeeper remarks as she plucks another version from the moving box and adjusts it on the hangar.  “But this one is very nice.”  She holds up the white cocktail dress to admire it. 

 

“I wore that to Army’s birthday party,” Rey recalls.  “There’s shoes and a purse somewhere to match.”

 

“This gown is gorgeous.”  Mrs. Faris has moved on now to hang up the glamorous Empire Day gown.

 

Rey gazes on the expensive designer dress and sighs.  “I felt like a princess that night.” 

 

“Well, since you will be living here now, perhaps we should buy you some new clothes,” the housekeeper tentatively suggests.  “Maybe some things that don’t remind you of Chancellor Hux?  That’s not a healthy thing given the circumstances,” she observes in a motherly fashion.

 

Rey groans inwardly.  “Please don’t get the wrong idea about me and Army.” 

 

The housekeeper politely but pointedly ignores that comment.  She looks down into the moving box at the remains of Rey’s wardrobe.  “Let’s get these folded and put away.  Then, I’ll show you where to put your laundry.” 

 

“Thank you.”

 

Rey now reaches in to pull out her old droid factory uniform. Rey sighs as she holds it up.  How her life has changed since she worked the nightshift.

 

“What’s that?” the housekeeper asks, looking openly curious. 

 

“It’s from my old life,” Rey answers glumly. “Before I was kidnapped by stormtroopers, dragged to Coruscant, and appointed the galaxy’s least qualified Senator.”

 

The older woman reads aloud the name from the back of the company-issued coveralls Rey is holding up.  “DroidWorks. Quality robotics for commercial and residential use.”  Then, her eyes widen as she reads, “Dantooine.”

 

“I settled there after the war,” Rey reveals absently.  “There was nothing for me on Jakku.”

 

Mrs. Faris looks spooked as she connects the dots.  “You’re her!” the housekeeper whispers excitedly.  “You’re the secret girlfriend on Dantooine!”

 

Rey doesn’t answer.  She just stares at the droid factory uniform and longs for the anonymity and simplicity of her old life.

 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” the housekeeper presses.

 

Rey meets the older woman’s eyes and confesses the truth.  “Mrs. Faris, I’m not Kylo’s girlfriend or his special guest or whatever.  I’m his wife.”

 

There.  She’s said it out loud.  The older woman looks shocked but recovers fast.   “Forgive me.  I was not aware.  Welcome home, milady.”

 

Rey keeps spitting out the unhappy truth.  “Kylo didn’t kill those four praetorians yesterday. I did.”  She looks to the housekeeper for understanding.  “Don’t you see?  I’m just as dangerous as he is . . . “

 

“Y-Yes, milady,” the sputtering housekeeper nods.

 

“Call me Rey.  I’m just Rey,” Rey insists, as she clings fast to what little remains of her old identity. “I’m Rey from Jakku.  The Resistance girl who found Luke Skywalker and survived the war.  And I’m going to survive this too,” Rey says with determination before she bursts into tears.  Because this might just be the worst day of her life.  And because behind all her earnest bluster lay some very Dark fears. 

 

“Y-Yes, milady,” Mrs. Faris gulps.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Finally, the day is done.  Kylo dismisses his staff and happily stomps back to his quarters.  He had hoped to break away from work sooner to check on Rey, but there hasn’t been time.  His schedule was double booked for most of the day, and that was before he got started late thanks to his impromptu wedding ceremony.   But he’s reached a stopping point now.  It’s time to find his new bride and kick off married life together. 

 

The housekeeper is waiting for him as he breezes in. That’s a bad sign. “Well?” Kylo demands as he yanks off his helmet.

 

The normally unflappable woman Snoke used to call his ‘domestic general’ appears agitated.  “Sir, everything is as you requested, but I have some concerns—“

 

“Where’s Rey?” he interrupts. 

 

“Yes, the uh . . . Senator . . .   Sir, she is acting strangely. I did summon a medic droid but she refuses assistance.”

 

Uh oh.  That doesn’t sound good.  “Where is she?”

 

“The kitchen.”

 

Kylo marches to investigate and discovers Rey sitting on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, blood running from both of her clenched fists.  She’s wearing her droid factory jumpsuit again and her hair is tied tight in her trio of scavenger knots. It makes for an odd picture, but Kylo instantly understands what she’s up to.  The floor around her is littered with broken glass that bears testament to her determination to master her chosen task.  And it’s a hard one, he judges. 

 

Kylo watches as Rey painstakingly floats a drinking glass out from an open cabinet and sets it atop the small pyramid of glasses she is building on the countertop.  It settles with a clink and a wobble.  Then, the whole stack of glasses lists to one side and threatens to topple. Rey’s face betrays all her concentration as she exerts control.  Beads of sweat drip down her cheeks as she bares her teeth and clamps down in the Force. 

 

“Well done,” Kylo approves from the doorway, surprising the housekeeper, a maid, and the cook who stand as wary but fascinated onlookers.

 

“I can’t stack more than six.  When I add the seventh glass they always fall,” Rey confesses softly.

 

Kylo watches as she successfully adds a sixth glass to the wobbly stack.  “It’s not the number that matters.  It is the control.  This is lightyears ahead of what you did last night,” he commends.  As usual, Rey is a quick study. 

 

She tries now for the seventh glass.  And, as predicted, it collapses the tower.  The glasses hit the stone floor and shatter, sending pieces flying everywhere.

 

Rey sighs heavily. 

 

So do the housekeeper and the housemaid.

 

“That’s enough for tonight,” Kylo decides.  The show’s over.  He steps forward into the room, the debris crunching under his boots. 

 

But Rey is not ready to give up.  She shakes her head. “No.  I’m not done yet.”

 

Kylo hears the obsessive undercurrent behind her words and recognizes it for the Dark trait it is. 

 

“That’s enough,” he repeats as he crouches before her and reaches for her hands.  “Open,” he bids her.  Sure enough, she has sharp glass fragments clasped in both fists.  Her hands are cut and bleeding steadily now that the pressure from her grip is released.  It’s gory and painful looking.  Kylo grimaces at the bloody mess. 

 

“It helps me focus,” she explains. 

 

“Fair enough.  But you don’t need fresh hurts for focus,” he chides.  “The past is enough.”   Suddenly, Kylo wishes he had never demonstrated to Rey how to use physical pain for Dark power.   This should not be her go-to technique.

 

“You mean Jakku?” she looks to him.

 

Kylo nods.  “Jakku.  Or whatever else works.   Find what motivates you.  I sense great fear in you, Rey.  You have hate.  You have anger.  Use them.  Don’t use this.”  He tosses the bloody glass pieces he’s holding to the side in disgust.

 

Rey looks very troubled now.   “I can’t think of the past.  That hurts way worse than this,” she whispers, looking self-conscious about their audience listening in.  “You said it yourself,” Rey chokes out her words.  “My past is my greatest weakness.  It will never be a strength.”

 

Kylo disagrees. “Yes, it will be. Look to the past for pain.  I do not want you to hurt yourself. This is not the solution—“

 

“It helps.”

 

“It’s a crutch.” 

 

“Who cares?” she whines.  “It works.”

 

He refuses to argue this point.  Kylo reflexively pulls rank.  “Apprentice, I forbid it,” he snaps.  The words come out harshly.  Too harshly.

 

Wounded, demoralized Rey now lowers her eyes in a demure gesture that Kylo instantly decides he hates.  “Yes, Master,” she grumbles.

 

“You are precious to me.  I will not see you harmed,” Kylo says gruffly.  He stands to his feet now and hauls her up.  Then he summons the Light to heal her bloody hands with the Force.   He will put all those Jedi holochrons he has watched to good use.   “Feel the Light.  Feel it heal,” he intones as he demonstrates.  For truly, this power is magical.  It is oddly familiar, too.   The Light has a vaguely nostalgic sense of de ja vu.  Like the Force is with him in a way that it hasn't been in a long, long time. It feels so good to do this that Kylo can only imagine how it must feel to be the person healed.

 

But Rey looks at him blankly.  “I don’t feel anything.”  She looks numb as she watches him heal first one hand and then the other.  “I can’t feel the Light anymore.”   She sounds panicky.  And lost.

 

“Shhh.  Try again,” he soothes.

 

“I can’t!” Rey wails, sounding on the verge of hysterics. “It’s like the holochrons—I can’t do it!  Stop asking me to try!”  She sounds like a frustrated, petulant child now.  He’s supposed to be the high maintenance one who acts out and spouts off.  But now their roles are reversed.  Now, Rey’s the needy emotional wreck and he’s the levelheaded one who gets to tolerate it.

 

“Give it time,” Kylo counsels even though he himself is disappointed and a bit distressed.

 

Plan A of coaxing Rey back to the Light has failed.  It’s time for Plan B that teaches her how to cope with Darkness. Seeing her now, so determined and yet utterly stressed out concerns Kylo.   This is just like her awakening to the Light, he realizes with a stroke of insight.  Both he and Snoke had felt Rey’s advent in the Force.  This must be the flip side of that experience.  For like her Light Side awakening, Rey’s Dark power is simply enormous and has come on very quickly. She cannot control her Darkness as it surges.   Kylo could kick himself now for not abandoning Plan A earlier.   He should have listened to Rey’s pleas and stopped bemoaning what the loss of her Light meant to him personally. But selfishly he had insisted on fixing her.

 

As Kylo gazes down on her bloodstained hands and her Jakku hair knots, more understanding dawns.  All that emotional repression Rey learned on Jakku as a coping technique may have worked fine with the zen discipline of the Light, but it is incompatible with Darkness.  She can’t keep Dark emotions bottled up.  It’s counterproductive.   Eventually, they will explode in stunts like tossing four praetorians to their deaths.

 

“You need to vent your emotions.  Darkness will not be contained.  It needs to be released,” he instructs.  “Stacking glasses is fine, but it’s not enough.”

 

“I know,” she admits, “but I c-can’t.  I don’t want to hurt more people.”  Rey shoots him an accusing look.  “I’m not a killer.  I’m not you!”

 

Kylo avoids mentioning the four praetorians.  Instead, he patiently explains, “You don’t have to kill. You just need to cope.”

 

“But how?” she cries.

 

“Here.”  Kylo himself grabs a glass with the Force and holds it aloft. “Shatter it.”

 

“Against the floor?”

 

“No.  With your mind.”

 

Rey looks skeptical.  But she concentrates and the glass literally implodes on the first try.  And after his own long, frustrating day, Kylo finds simply witnessing the destruction to be cathartic.

 

“Feel better?” he smiles over at Rey.

 

“Yes.  I think so,” she frowns, looking perplexed.  A little embarrassed, too. 

 

He shrugs.  There’s no cause to be sheepish.  He states flatly, “I destroy things too sometimes to take the edge off.  Darkness needs to destroy now and then. It’s healthy.”

 

“Yes,” Rey breathes out.  She truly does look better.  “I get that now.”

 

“Try again,” Kylo invites as he plucks another glass from the cabinet for Rey to shatter.

 

“Remember Luke blowing up your hut when he was angry?” Kylo reminisces when once again Rey has destroyed the glass.

 

She nods, “That was Darkness, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes.  Motivated by fear.  Luke was terrified about us getting together.  And he had plenty of Darkness he tried to hide.   But it was there.  Right beneath the surface.” Kylo looks Rey over critically now.  “Doing better?”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I think so.”

 

“Good.”  He doesn’t like to see her like this.  He wants his confident, ballsy Rey back.   Not this distraught, tentative girl.  But that will come in time with training.  Kylo reaches over to drape an arm about her shoulders and gives her an encouraging squeeze. “Physical activity helps too. We should get you in the training room tomorrow morning.  Exercise helps to manage emotions,” he tells Rey as he walks her out of the kitchen and past their silent audience of staff members.

 

“On the terrace, Sir,” the housekeeper calls after them helpfully. 

 

“What’s on the terrace?” Rey is suspicious. 

 

“Dinner,” he answers.  “Tonight we are celebrating, remember?” 

 

“I don’t feel like celebrating,” Rey announces and he ignores it.

 

This should be different, Kylo judges as he covertly peeks at Rey’s rumpled bloodstained coveralls.  She really ought to be in a pretty dress like this morning.  And those steel toed boots don't give him bridal vibes at all.  But the Jakku hair knots remind him of how they met and so perhaps that’s sort of fitting. Very little about their wedding day has been traditional so he shouldn’t be surprised that tonight is off script.  He and Rey are anything but traditional.  This is just more of the same.

 

“Oh!” she exclaims as he walks her out to the large landscaped terrace that all the smaller bedrooms open onto.  Kylo very rarely ventures out here.  But it seemed like a good spot for a romantic dinner for two. The dining room is so stiff and large that he himself hates to eat there.  Actually, he pretty much hates his Palace generally.  It’s so empty.  So formal.  So not him.  And so not Rey.  But this is the best spot there is, especially on a clear and comfortable Coruscant evening. The staff has strung some white lights in the trees for a festive atmosphere.  Awaiting them is a table set for two with champagne chilling. 

 

Rey looks about nervously and he assures her, “It’s just us now.  Hungry?”

 

“Not really,” she admits as she takes her seat.

 

He’s expecting this response.  “Take a look,” he instructs and she lifts the cover off her plate.  Underneath is one of her protein bars. 

 

She smiles.  Sort of.  And that’s encouraging.

 

Kylo busies himself uncorking the champagne.  “I know this morning wasn’t much of a wedding.  But it’s not the ceremony that matters, it’s the marriage.”  If she endorses this sentiment, Rey doesn’t show it.  But Kylo keeps trying.  He’s well aware of how anxious Rey is about this topic.  Waves of discontent and fear are positively radiating off her now in the Force and they have nothing to do with Dark power.

 

“Champagne?” he offers.

 

“Yes.”  

 

He pours each of them a glass and then raises his in a salute.  “To us,” he smiles across at her.  “Together forever in the Force.”

 

Rey looks rather uncomfortable at this toast, as if she doesn’t know how to respond.  She just stalls for a moment until she gulps down the entire glass in an awkward gesture that betrays how nervous she is.  But this could be good, Kylo decides.  So he refills her glass without comment.   He’ll let her get as drunk as she wants if that will help ease the tension. 

 

Kylo starts asking about her day and telling her about his.  Rey says the bare minimum as she keeps sipping champagne.  He eats his real dinner as she pecks at her protein bar.  She’s never been a big eater but lately she’s eating less than ever.  It shows.  Rey is looking very slim. 

 

“You can see the apartment from here,” Kylo remarks offhand, searching for a safe topic after all her monosyllabic responses. “Here.  I’ll show you.”  He walks over to the west edge of the terrace and points the distinctive building out. 

 

Rey dutifully rises and follows him.  She squints into the night sky.  “I like the apartment.  Why can’t I live at the apartment?”

 

“Because your place is here with me now.”  He snakes a hand around her waist loosely.  There hasn’t been anything romantic between them since Empire Day happened.  Kylo has been trying to back off so as not to pressure her.  But now that they are a couple officially, he feels entitled to take a few liberties.

 

“I don’t see why anything needs to change,” she complains.  She’s clearly looking for an argument.

 

“We are married now.  We will live together as husband and wife.”

 

“I don’t like this place.”

 

He shrugs off her protest.  “Make all the changes you want.   I want you to be happy here.  This is your home now.”

 

“I was happy in that apartment on the Lower Level,” Rey harrumphs.

 

“I can’t live on the Lower Level.  You know that.  I live here in my Palace. With my secret wife.”   And that reminds him.  He never kissed his bride. Well, now’s his chance.  Kylo leans in for a kiss.  Time to start the honeymoon action. 

 

But Rey looks away and his lips land on her cheek.  Then, she even stalks away a few paces.  Miffed at this cold rebuff, Kylo considers chasing her.  But he thinks better of it.  “More champagne?” he asks lightly as he returns to the table.

 

“Trying to get me drunk?” she accuses.

 

Yes.  But he laughs it off and pours himself a glass.  He’s gonna need it if this keeps up. “We’re celebrating.  Drink all you want,” he urges.

 

“You’re trying to get me drunk.”

 

“Apparently, it’s not working,” he smirks.  “If you’re through, we can be done.  Come.”  He puts down his glass.

 

“More holochrons?” she sighs as she complies. She’s assuming—or maybe she’s pretending--that tonight is like any other night.  “You know I hate those holochrons,” she grumbles.

 

“The holochrons are still at the apartment.  I need to collect them.  Did you get your stuff settled in?” Kylo creates a pretext to head for the empty bedroom that adjoins his own.  Sure enough, Rey’s things are neatly arranged in the closet.  “Good,” he approves.  “You’re moved in.”

 

“The first change I’m making is buying myself a bed.”   Her emphasis is on ‘myself.’

 

Kylo refuses to take the bait. “That’s fine.  Make all the changes you want.”  Again, he tells her, “This is your home.”

 

“I don’t want to be here,” she whines again. 

 

He shrugs.  “You’ll get used to it.  You didn’t want to be at the apartment at first either,” he reminds her. 

 

That’s the wrong thing to say because it sets her off further.  And now her whiny complaints and pointed barbs become a full-fledged argument.  With a frustrated face and a hand on her hip, Rey rails at him shrilly.  “You get everything you want in the end, don’t you?   You got the galaxy, you killed your entire family, you killed Snoke, you convinced me to join you . . . ”

 

He quashes her burgeoning diatribe coolly. “I don’t get everything I want.”  In fact, he’s sort of offended she thinks that.

 

“Yeah? What’s missing?” Rey challenges. 

 

That question annoys him further.  And now, despite intentions to the contrary, his voice is heated too.  “This isn’t the way I want things to be.  You are supposed to want to join me.  To share my vision of the future.  Not be driven to go along with it because it was your only option.”

 

She nods angrily.  “I am supposed to be Light too.”

 

“Yes.  You are.”  He’s a bit bitter about that himself actually. “We are supposed to balance each other as equals.   And we are supposed to be in love.  Our wedding is supposed to be a happy occasion to celebrate, not something you want to hide and pretend never happened.”  

 

She’s not supposed to be rebuffing him tonight.  He wants her eager for their future and hungry for his kiss.  But instead, she is yellow eyed and sullen.  Bitchy and fearful.  Full of regrets and accusations. 

 

“I want things to be different for you and for us. And this is the best solution I can think of.  So don’t think you are the only one dissatisfied and frustrated with how things have turned out.”  Kylo scowls openly at her.  “You think you’ve been wronged?  Do you feel cheated by fate with this Darkness?   You feel pushed into a situation you don’t like?   Well, so do I.”

 

Rey looks taken aback. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize.”

 

Of course, she didn’t. “You’re so miserable you can’t see past yourself.  I am trying to help you.   This was your idea—“

 

“Not the marriage!”

 

“The marriage was non-negotiable.”

 

“It wasn’t necessary!”

 

“It was.  Listen to me, Rey.”  He’s in her face now as he spits the truth.  “I come from a family that has spent generations at war with itself over the Force.  My mother and my uncle fought my grandfather.  They toppled an Empire and started a civil war.   Years later, it was my turn to fight them. I had to destroy a Republic with another civil war to win.  Now, I’m the last one standing.  I get to make the rules now.  And the rules are changing.”

 

“My whole family and my whole life have been defined by conflict over the Force.  I’m through with that!  I want no more Skywalkers killing Skywalkers for outdated ideals of Jedi and Sith.  I want the past to die!  In its place, I want unity.  I want us to have common goals for the galaxy and for the Force.  With no more arguments that ripen into civil wars.  With no more hidden children, lies, and betrayals.  I don’t want any kid of mine waking to a family member attempting to execute him in his sleep.”

 

Kylo pauses to catch his breath.   He’s shouting now.  But is she getting this? 

 

“What’s done is done,” she sighs.  “I understand, Kylo.”

 

“Do you?   Do you really?” he demands hotly.  “Because that old Sith adage turned out to be true:  if you’re not with me, you’re my enemy.   That’s why I want you all-in, Rey.  We got married so you would be on my side.   I am committed to you and I want a commitment back.  I know that won’t stop you from betraying me if you want to.   But it’s something at least.”

 

He shoots her a reproachful look.  “This would be easier if you weren’t so damaged from Jakku.  No one’s ever cared about you or helped you.  That’s why you’re always so standoffish and suspicious.  And I get it.  We don’t have a great history.  I don’t have the best track record.  But I have only ever tried to help you.   I wish you could see that.”

 

“I’m trying—“ she wails.

 

“Try harder!” he snarls back.  “Try to see things from my perspective for once!  Step out of your own experience!  Use some of that Light Side empathy!”

 

He scored a hit there.  Rey begrudgingly nods.  But she follows up.  “And what about what I want? When does that matter?”

 

Kylo finds the question to be exasperating. “This is what you said you want,” he grinds out.

 

“None of this was my idea,” Rey shoots back.

 

“I asked you if you wanted to go back to Dantooine and you said no.  You wanted to try being a Senator.  And you’ve been begging me for weeks now for Dark training.  So here you are, a Senator and my Apprentice.  Those were your choices,” he reminds her. 

 

That shuts down her protests.  Rey looks positively cowed now. Kylo softens his tough love tone and tries to be conciliatory. “Just because this is not what either of us expected doesn’t mean it can’t be good.  Rey, I want us to make the best of this.”

 

“Yeah,” she nods with resignation, “me too.  I guess . . . ”

 

“Then come,” he bids her as he waves a hand to open the door to his adjoining bedroom. 

 

“Now?” she squeaks.

 

“Yes.  Married life starts tonight.”  It’s their wedding night after all.

 

Rey looks at his outstretched hand a long moment and visibly swallows.  No doubt this is the moment she has been dreading since they said their vows.

 

“All in,” she repeats his phrase from earlier. 

 

“All in,” he agrees, adding with more hope than confidence, “The Force is with us.” 

 

To his great relief, Rey accepts his hand.  This girl has flight risk written all over her, so he knows how hard this marriage is for her.  Commitments terrify his abandoned girl who waited in vain for a family who betrayed her.  No one has ever been there for her. But he will be. 

 

“Don’t be afraid,” Kylo tells her as he leads her forward.  But Rey’s fingers clasped in his are sweaty and nervous.  “It will be fine.”  

 

“How can you say that?” she hisses.  “It wasn’t fine last time.”  

 

She is trembling.   She’s probably been obsessing over this all day, he realizes. And that’s never how he wanted their wedding night to be.  She’s supposed to be a blushing bride in a pretty negligee.  Maybe a little shy but nothing like this.  She seems terrified. He’s seen prisoners led to their execution who were more enthusiastic than Rey is.   It doesn’t help that the lead up to all this was a shouting match.

 

“It will be fine. I’ll stay out of your head,” Kylo promises.  “But I really think our being together that night was just a coincidence with your eyes.”   

 

“I hope you’re right.”

 

“Look at me,” he commands as they stand beside his bed. “Kiss me,” he invites.

 

She gives him a quick peck.  It’s the bland kiss fashionable people give their friends when they meet socially, but it’s a start. Kylo goes in for a kiss of his own now.  She accepts it, but she doesn’t respond.  Still, he keeps at it, pulling her close.  

 

“You don’t know how much I want you.”  He’s been reliving their night together over and over again in his head.   Clearly, tonight will be nothing like that wild passion.  But that’s okay.   They can work back up to it, right?  Every couple needs goals.  

 

Rey is still stiff in his arms and passive under his lips.  She’s not resisting, but she might as well be.  And that is a bit discouraging, but Kylo keeps at it.  Is she thawing?   Not really.   

 

Rey is the one to break away.   She looks down, avoiding his eyes.  “This is like this morning, right?” 

 

How does he answer that?

 

As Kylo hesitates, she rushes in.  “Oh, alright.  Let’s get this over with.”  Rey abruptly bends to unhook and step out of her boots.  Then she unzips the droid factory coveralls and peels them off.   She’s standing there before him in some sensible cotton panties and a matching bralette thing that look very Rey.  Like they wash and wear well and were bought on sale. Someday, he’s going to get this woman into expensive black lace. She’ll hate the frivolous waste of it all, and he’ll love it all the more.  

 

But he’s not loving this moment.  Not at all.  Rey looks down as she says dully, “Please yourself, Master.   Tell me what you like and I’ll do it.”

 

She won’t even look at him.  Oh fuck.   No.  Not like this.  Never like this.  What has he done??  

 

“No!” Kylo puts hands on her arms and suddenly he’s shaking her because that’s how flustered and angry he is.  “No!  That’s not how things are between us.”

 

“Are you going to pull your sword again?“ she asks blandly.  “Don’t bother.  I won’t fight you.”

 

It’s the truth.  All fight looks to have gone out of Rey now.  And that’s saying something.  This is a girl who shot at him the first time they met, who invaded his head in interrogation, and then who left him bleeding on his back in the snow.  She is fierce by nature, with an anticipatory aggressive defense learned in the lawless desert.  Except now that she is Dark.   She is less empowered than depleted by the Dark Side, it seems.  And tonight she is resigned and sad as she endures their wedding night with the same stoicism that she endured Jakku.  

 

Kylo is horrified, offended, and deeply saddened now. 

 

He releases her arms and grabs for her face, tipping it up towards his.  “Rey, listen to me,” he rasps.   “When we are together, we are husband and wife, not Master and Apprentice.”

 

“Is there any difference?” she warbles in confusion.  “I had to agree to both, remember?”

 

Kylo’s expression hardens.  “Yes, there is a difference,” he maintains.  “You are my wife first, and my Apprentice second.”

 

She breaks away and throws up her hands, “You confuse me with these distinctions. They don’t really matter anyway.”

 

“They do!” he counters angrily. 

 

“I want your training!” she yells back.  “I did this because I want your training!  Don’t you dare renege on that training!” she rages, suddenly flailing about.  

 

He catches her, gathering her close again.  “I won’t.  We can start tomorrow.”

 

“You’re sure?” She is suspicious.

 

“Yes.  I cleared my morning.   But Rey,” he breathes into her hair as he clasps her tightly to him, “I will not forsake you.  Dark or Light, I will love you.  Whatever happens, it will be okay if we’re together.”

 

Those words seem to help.  She visibly relaxes.   Then she watches in silence as he undresses.  

 

“All in,” she whispers.

 

“All in,” he repeats.

 

Then, he lays her down upon the bed and starts slowly, very slowly because she’s still so afraid.  Tonight feels like the furthest thing from their night together when Rey was the aggressor.  Then, she was a lustful temptress greedy for his body.  Now, she is a quaking nervous bride, more fearful than curious.   She’s equally as experienced as he is, but you’d never know it.   And so, this time Kylo takes the lead.  

 

In his many fantasies of this night, he is always the Dark seducer, coaxing and bending Rey to his will.  Sometimes with the Force, sometimes with his smooth bedroom moves, and sometimes with a little violence thrown in. But always he is the one in control who dominates.  Rey in turn submits and revels in it.  But that’s nothing like what he wants in real life.  That’s the completely wrong tactic now.  And so, Kylo seduces softly and slowly.  There is no coercion, there is only patience as he sets to work worshipping Rey’s body.  

 

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her as he rains kisses down her neck following the curve of her throat down to her breasts. He luxuriates in the realness of her, for this is no fantasy.  Their one night together is a blur so this time Kylo will take his time.  He’s never explored a woman’s body before.  Rey’s body is thin and strong, a little bony here and there.  And scarred.  He feels at a bumpy, nubby mark raised on her flesh across her lower ribs.  She shifts nervously at the attention, clearly self-conscious.  

 

“What’s this from?” he asks of the jagged mark.  

 

“I fell in a wreck as a kid.  There were no medic droids on Jakku.  I had to trade scrap to get portions to pay someone to manually stitch it up.  It’s a little puckered,” she says apologetically.  “The guy was drunk.”

 

Kylo kisses the scar and conceives an idea.  Can he do this?   Will it work?   He summons the Light and attempts to heal the decade old wound.  It works.  New smooth pink skin appears magically under his fingertips.  “Did you feel that?” he asks hopefully. 

 

“Yes, I think so.”  Rey smiles for the first time today.

 

Good.  Now that she’s not immersed in Darkness sitting on the kitchen floor, Rey can sense the Light. That’s progress. Now, Kylo makes it his mission to locate every scar and heal it.  Again and again, he tends to Rey’s past hurts with the Light.  There are so many.   Most are scavenging injuries. One is from a snake bite in the desert. Another is from crashing her homemade speeder on Jakku.  One is from him.  It’s a small puncture wound on her shoulder from throwing her into a tree on the Starkiller woods.  None of the scars are from major wounds.  Normally, they would not have left marks had they been treated with bacta.  But bacta wasn’t an option on Jakku.   And apparently it was in short supply at the Resistance. 

 

He can heal these superficial souvenirs of Rey’s harsh past, but what he really wants to do is to heal her trauma.  But he can’t.  And he knows he shouldn’t.  Because to erase her past hardships would also erase the lessons and strengths she gleaned from them.  You take people as they come, Kylo has learned from his own experience.  You don’t try to change them.  You accept their baggage and try to understand it.  That’s what he will do for Rey and, in time, what he hopes she will do for him. 

 

It goes against his nature and his own throbbing body’s demands, but Kylo is tender and painstakingly slow.   This isn’t the rush of passion and the race to the finish line like before.  This is him with healing hands and a wandering mouth as he tries to soothe her fear and relax her inhibitions.  At first, Rey tolerates his Force foreplay passively, but she thaws some and begins to respond little by little.  Meeting him kiss for kiss when finally she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to her.  

 

“Let me love you,” he whispers into her mouth as Rey moans incoherently.   He takes that for a yes.   And truthfully, she’s more than ready.  He reaches down and her thighs fall open, and that is the invitation he was waiting for.  She’s slick and hot beneath him.  Time to go.   With a quick prayer to the Force that this not result in a new super scary version of Rey with red eyes and a spinning head, Kylo plunges forward.  And, oh yes.  This is marvelous.  All her sweet friction is like heaven for him.

 

Sex is his new favorite pastime, he decides.   This pleasure is so beguiling.  Yes, he definitely gets what all the fuss is about.  Kylo has years of experience to make up for and, assuming all goes well tonight, he and Rey can devote themselves to the task.  He probably owes her a proper honeymoon trip but until then they can honeymoon in his Palace in between training sessions, Senate votes, and meetings. 

 

Look at her.  With her eyes closed, mouth slightly open, back arched, and head thrown back.   Rey loves this even if she doesn’t love him.  Not yet, at least.   He’s trying to make this last as long as possible.  To prolong both their pleasure.  But he’s a novice with his own body as well as hers.   All too soon, it’s over.  For like so many comforts in life, sex is fleeting.  But the afterglow is nice.   Very nice.  Kylo pulls Rey half atop him, holding her close.  Rey lies with her head resting on his chest and one arm splayed across him.  This is the intimacy they both need. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yes, I think so.”  She raises her head to peer at him.  “My eyes?”

 

He deliberately left the lights on for this moment.  “Still yellow.”

 

She sighs and settles back down.  “I guess that’s okay.”  

 

“It’ll be alright.  Thank you,” he tells her as he strokes her hair.  Rey stifles a yawn and that tells him there won’t be a round two.  “You’re not going to run away on me in the night again, are you?”  He feels compelled to ask.  Rey has a knee jerk reaction to flee whenever she’s upset. 

 

“No.   I want that training session,” Rey informs him.  It’s an honest answer but it stings somewhat.   His scavenger girl isn't the sentimental type.  She won’t be telling him endearments or promising her undying love.  And that knowledge quells his pillow talk.  Kylo decides to keep his mushy thoughts to himself.  He contents himself with actions not words, noting that Rey is clinging to him every bit as much as he’s clinging to her.  It feels good.  Very good.  Even if it’s not perfect.  

 

He dims the lights with the Force.  “Go to sleep.” 

 

“Yeah, okay.” 

 

She is quiet and he is quiet for a long moment before Rey suddenly announces.  “I’m not going to leave in the night.”  The way she says it betrays how seriously she has been considering it.

 

“Good.”  Kylo nods and responds with a true confession of his own.  “Because if you leave, I will come for you.  I will keep coming back for you again and again.  I’m not your faithless family.  I will come back for you.” It’s more promise than threat.  “You’ll see.  We are destiny.”

 

Rey has no rejoinder to that speech.  Oddly enough, it seems to reassure her because she drifts off fast.  But he lays awake.  He’s brooding, as is his habit.

 

Kylo is still a bit shocked that things have ended up where they are now.  It’s a lot to process and it feels fraught with peril.  He can’t screw this up.  Still, he’s not sure where to start tomorrow with training.  Kylo has never contemplated a student.  Not in any serious way.  His offer to train Rey on the Starkiller was hollered out in an impulsive mix of resentment and admiration.  And his ploy to teach her the Light with Vader’s holochrons was intended to be collaborative with them learning together.  That’s nothing like the Master and Apprentice roles they have fallen into.  And while on some level maybe this ought to be a big ego rush, Kylo fills ill prepared to teach anyone.  And, more importantly, this is never how he contemplated his relationship with Rey. 

 

She was supposed to help him.

 

She was the rebel girl hiding out on Dantooine hoarding her Light and ignoring her Force.  But she was the answer to all his problems.   Rey was the balance he needed for himself and for his Empire.  She was the consort he longed for, and his only peer.  She knew all his family secrets and for a time she had been bonded to him in the Force. Rey was the girl that got away on the _Supremacy_ who he later let escape at the war’s end.  Because he knew—he knew—she would one day be his. 

 

And now she is his completely. His forever wife and his Apprentice.  Only she’s in no position to help him.  Most days, she’s a weepy, angry mess.  The tables are turned and now she needs his help.  Never in his wildest dreams had he foreseen this situation.  It feels like a trip into the World Between Worlds except it’s real.  

 

But Kylo is prepared to step up.  He refuses to let Rey flounder in Darkness.  He will not abandon her when she needs him most.  But he is wary of falling into the traps of the past.  And so, while he will begin tomorrow teaching her how to control her Darkness, Kylo knows that in the end what Rey really needs is balance.  And that means Rey needs the Light. 

 

He’s encouraged that tonight she sensed his Force healing.  That’s a start.  Still, leading by example playing with Jedi holochrons might be a fun diversion for him, but it’s not enough for Rey.  Rey is too discouraged and distracted for the holochrons. And that’s fine.  But what is the alternative?   She needs more Light.

 

Glancing over at her sleeping form nestled up close, Kylo decides that if Rey cannot bring herself to seek the Light, then he will be the Light for her.  Here behind closed doors where no one else can see, Kylo will show her compassion, understanding, patience, and mercy.  But most of all, he will show her love.   For perhaps if Rey experiences the Light in action, she will hear the call to the Light herself.  And it will kindle her desire to seek the Light and maybe even to be the Light once again.  That is her true self, she’s only forgotten it.  But one day, she will reclaim her lost soul.  The Force is fluid like that, Kylo suspects.  No one is ever all Dark or all Light for very long.  You don’t have to be a Chosen One to vacillate between both sides. 

 

But for now, his yellow eyed fallen angel slumbers at his side. Soft and warm.  Peaceful and still.  Is she as sated as he feels?   For Kylo feels well satisfied.  This is never how he expected things to unfold between them, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.  It’s just different and far more challenging.  Especially now when there are no rules.   The old ideologies of the Force have been exposed for the incomplete truths they were.  As between he and Rey, the bright lines have blurred, and all that religious dogma is forgotten.  Who is Dark? Who is Light?  Kylo isn’t sure.  And maybe it doesn’t matter.  Maybe that’s old thinking.  Maybe those are the wrong questions. 

 

But can he teach her?   He can try. 

 

Kylo thinks now of his Jedi Master uncle at Crait admitting to his failure as a teacher.  To this day, Kylo still doesn't know what Luke had meant by that mea culpa.  Was his uncle thinking he had failed because his student turned Dark?   Or had Luke finally recognized the fallacy of the Jedi teaching to fear the Dark Side?   Because in Kylo’s mind, Luke Skywalker’s greatest failure was in abdicating the role of Chosen One.  His uncle had completely misunderstood balance and that had prolonged the schism in the Force yet another generation. Kylo resolves not to make that same mistake.  Whatever balance means, in theory or in practice, he will be open to discovering it. 

 

Looking again at the Dark sleeping beauty by his side, Kylo knows without a doubt that Luke Skywalker would be tempted to murder Rey right now.  Righteous Luke would justify it as a mercy killing that would save the world from Rey’s surging Darkness.  That fool never understood that Darkness is eternal, like the Light.  You can’t defeat it no matter how many sleeping innocents you behead.  And every dead Darksider is, ironically, a defeat for the cause of balance in the long run.

 

But a true Sith might kill Rey too, Kylo knows.  A Dark Lord would worry about a rival Apprentice with power equal to his own.   For those power mad idiots fought each other as hard as they fought others for their goals.  All that infighting inherent in the Rule of Two kept the Sith from reaching their full potential.   Unity was the obvious answer except the Sith culture of betrayal did not permit it. Kylo read enough of Vader’s excerpts of grouchy Darth Malgus’ journals to know that. 

 

But all of those mindsets are the past.  The Jedi and the Sith are gone.  There’s just he and Rey left, and they are making it up as they go along.  The bizarre irony of teaching Rey the Dark Side all the while hoping she rediscovers her Light is not lost on Kylo.  Truly, the past must be dead if this is where things have ended up. 

 

Rey stirs now slightly beside him before she settles back down.  Is she fully asleep?   Kylo can’t tell.  But he promises softly whether she can hear him or not, “I won’t let you down.   I won’t fail you.”   He’s not Luke and he’s not Snoke.  Kylo refuses to fear Rey’s power and he will not give up on her.  There’s too much at stake for him, for her, and for the Force.

 


	25. Chapter 25

True to his word, Kylo begins her training early the next morning.  They stand together in the giant training room holding the practice sabers they sparred with once before.  Only this isn’t fun and games.  Kylo is very subdued.  It sets the mood as somber.  Rey listens in silence as Kylo speaks.

 

“Neither the Jedi nor the Sith began training with a sword, but I think it’s where we should start.  Combat training will be an outlet for your emotions and these are useful skills for whenever that guy in the Unknown Regions shows up.”  Kylo frowns now as he laments, “The Force is so much more than laser swords, Rey.  I want you to know that.  Just because we are starting with this doesn’t mean it’s the most important part.  Far from it, actually.”  He gives her a serious look.  “I’m hoping for the day when the Force is less about duels and more about knowledge.”

 

“Luke began with meditation,” Rey recalls.

 

Kylo nods.  “Sharpening your connection to the Force is how you grow in power.  Meditation matters whether you are on the Dark or the Light Side.  The strongest Force-users have an effortless connection to the Force.  They wield it without even trying.  It becomes an extension of their consciousness.  They don’t have to find the Force because they exist in it on some level all the time.  Snoke could be like that at times,” Kylo remembers.

 

“How did Snoke start your training?”

 

“With strategy.  He was a shady businessman who loved the game of power.  He focused less on the Force than he did on other skills.  His success wasn’t from supreme Dark power so much as it was from his total mix of attributes.  He had plenty of Force, but nothing remarkable.  What he had was keen intelligence and amazing insight.  That guy could plot like Sidious.”  Kylo looks away and frowns.  “I never understood why Luke didn’t come for him.  Luke Skywalker far outpaced Snoke in the Force.  He could easily have taken him down one-on-one.”

 

“And then Luke would have had to kill you,” Rey points out.  “I don’t think Luke wanted to kill you.”

 

“He tried once.”

 

“He was very ashamed of that.”

 

“Good,” Kylo glowers at what is clearly a painful memory.  Then, he gets back to the task as hand.  “A lightsaber is not an ordinary weapon," he counsels as he walks apart to test his weapon's heft in his hand with a few swings.  "To use a sword has long been a mark of distinction. It requires finesse and training.  A sword intimidates. Just carrying one conjures up imagery from bygone days and long dead warriors. They are elegant weapons.  Any fool can point a blaster and shoot it.  But only a select few can swing a sword." He turns back to Rey. "This is a proud tradition. But it is not easily learned. Do not get discouraged. You are naturally athletic and you are full of Force, but swordplay is harder than it looks."

 

Rey smirks.  “It wasn’t too hard on Starkiller Base.”

 

Kylo ignores the comment.  He resumes his pacing and lecture.  "A training blade stings and bruises, nothing more. Feel it so you will understand." Kylo swats at her ass, bouncing his training sword off her backside.

 

"Oww!" Rey jumps. She rubs at the tender spot.  "That hurts!"

 

“Get used to it. You're going to feel that a lot."  Kylo now calls her over to a large mirror on the opposite side of the room.  Standing before the mirror side by side, he begins to demonstrate a short series of sword stances he calls forms.   “You learn the forms until they become second nature and are committed to muscle memory.  So that they flow with your body during combat.  Swordplay is a bit like a choreographed dance.  There are seven classic forms, each with traditional attack patterns and defenses, and signature moves and passes.  I will teach you to master them all.  You will learn both the Light and Dark traditions.”

 

“Lightsaber combat is Light and Dark?” Rey asks in surprise as she attempts to mimic the posture he calls Jedi ready position.

 

“Yes.  Each tradition had their unique approach.  The Jedi used the Force for defense.  They styled themselves as peacekeepers.  That meant their strategies and moves tend to be less aggressive.  They usually sought to disable an opponent rather than to slay them.  The Jedi were masters as disarming passes and deflecting blaster fire.  They were good in a free-for-all melee or a crowded battlefield.”

 

“And the Sith?”

 

“The Sith fought to win and winning meant killing. They fought with overwhelming Force or confusing speed.  They liked to throw in Force tricks when they fought and they were masters of the feint and the block.  Their tradition focused mostly on duels.  Their moves presumed a capable sword wielding opponent, not a bunch of battle droids and troopers.”

 

“Okay.”  That’s all nice, but Rey is a pragmatist when it comes to things like this.  Frankly, she could care less about the ancient sword lore of the Jedi and the Sith.  “What I really need to know is how to defend myself.  There’s no one left to duel, Kylo.”

 

“There’s your friend in the Unknown Regions.”

 

“Right.” 

 

Kylo gives her a pointed look.  “Rey, it is my obligation as Master to pass on what I know.  This knowledge is lost if it is not shared.”  Kylo says this with such utter seriousness that she takes note.  “You need to learn what I know so that you can pass it on as well.”

 

“Okay,” she nods.  “Show me that last bit again.”

 

Kylo complies and Rey awkwardly imitates.  “Is this right?  This doesn’t feel right . . . “  It’s awkward to balance like this.  And the sword hilt is heavy even if the blade is weightless.  That makes the sword itself difficult to balance.  Unlike her old staff on Jakku, a lightsaber has heft only on one end.

 

"Lean into it more,” Kylo suggests as he surveys her critically.  “You will need to practice each pose before you string them together.  Go deeper into that lunge,” he suggests.  “It will give you the maximum reach for when you stab at your opponent.”

 

“Okay.”  She glances over at Kylo’s graceful balance at her side.  He makes this look easy.  Very easy.  He’s so tall and lithe, yet with plenty of lean brawn.  Probably honed from years of these strength poses. 

 

“That’s better.  Keep at it.”  Kylo walks her through the series of poses again, holding each stance to critique and perfect hers.  “Good.  Now, practice.”

 

“Wait—that’s it?” Rey breaks her stance and stares after his retreating form as he moves to replace his practice saber in its spot on the wall of weapons.  “Where are you going?”

 

“To take a shower.  Keep practicing,” he instructs.  “We will move on when you have mastered these skills.  You cannot rush the fundamentals.”

 

“Oh.  All day?”

 

“Until you are satisfied with your own progress.  Then go to work.  You will serve me in the Senate, Apprentice.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He smirks at her obvious consternation.  “I like your enthusiasm, but the Force is the work of a lifetime.  You don’t learn it in one morning.  Patience, Apprentice.  We can go over these forms again tonight,” he promises.  “Impress me and we will move onto the basic attack and defense patterns.”

 

Diligent Rey does as she is told.  And that night, she manages to sufficiently impress her Master.  As promised, Kylo starts demonstrating basic swings.  Over and over again, they repeat the same three thrusts and parries.  Once she has the moves down, Kylo varies his speed during the exercises.  Sometimes he swings so lightning fast that she can’t keep pace and their swords fail to connect altogether.  He lands blow after blow on her before she can begin to react.  Other times, he slows things down and she is the one rushing her answering move.  Again, he lands blow after blow.  Timing is everything, it seems, in life and in lightsabers.

 

Rey gets progressively frustrated with herself and with Kylo.  Finally, she unleashes a vicious attack after yet again Kylo tags her on the arm.  He must see her aggression building because he easily anticipates her, batting her down.  Annoyed and determined to leave a mark on him because he has left so many on her, Rey throws up her hand for a Force push.  This too Kylo reflexively blocks.  Only this time, he does it with a quick shot of lightning. 

 

It knocks her off her feet, throwing her skidding back towards the wall behind her.  And, damn, that hurts.  That really hurts.  It’s her first taste of Dark Side discipline.  Rey is panting as she opens her eyes to see Kylo looming over her.  He’s got his lit training sword in one hand and the other hand reaching down to her.  “That’s enough for today,” he decides. 

 

Rey relents, accepting his help up but stalking away in a huff to head for a shower. 

 

She is rinsing her hair out one last time, her eyes closed and head back as she luxuriates in the plentiful water, when the shower door opens.  Rey startles and half turns to see Kylo.  He's as bare as she is. His hands reach around her waist as he steps up from behind and starts to nuzzle at her neck.

 

“Get off—” she rejects him.  She’s not really in the mood for more Kylo.  She wants to take a shower and fall into bed.  Today has been far more physical activity than Rey is used to lately, and she’s tired. 

 

But he grabs for the soap and starts dragging it across her breasts, lathering them up.   “Shhhh,” he soothes.  “Let me help you.”  Gently, his hands wash her breasts and she is mollified somewhat.  Then his hands roam lower and they are skimming her torso down to her hips.   Kylo presses into her from behind and Rey feels the unmistakable evidence of his enthusiasm. Now his hands wander lower still and Rey gasps at the boldness. His lips suckle her neck and his fingers stroke and tease as water rains down on them both. There is pleasure from the water and pleasure from his touch.  It’s a very effective seduction.

 

But then Rey remembers that she’s angry when his hand brushes too hard against her very bruised arm.  She’s been in enough falls and fights on Jakku to know that tomorrow morning she’ll be black and blue all over. “Owww!  Get off!” she elbows Kylo hard.  “That’s enough,” she snaps testily.  She’s not in the mood for this.

 

But, as usual, Kylo doesn’t take no for an answer easily.  He doesn’t reply.  He just turns the water off and physically picks her up. 

 

“Hey!” surprised Rey protests hotly as they leave a dripping trail from the shower to the bed.  He lays her back and instead of putting more moves on her, Kylo starts an inspection.  Methodically, he summons the Light and begins to heal the day’s injuries.  He is so clinical about it that Rey loses some of her self-consciousness for her wet nakedness and his.

 

“I never want to hurt you,” he promises as he goes about his task.  This, Rey doesn’t resist.  It feels good.  She flexes her left arm that he has just healed.  Yes, that’s much better.

 

“Thank you,” she breathes out sincerely.  “That helps.”

 

“I was the Apprentice once,” he murmurs softly.  “I remember what this felt like.”  He looks very troubled as he gazes down on her.  “Rey, I want this training to bring us together, not tear us apart.” 

 

The words are said with so much honest trepidation that she feels compelled to admit, “I wanted this, remember?”

 

“There will be more lightning,” he warns as he reaches down to cup her cheek. 

 

She smirks up at him cheekily.  “Is this the part where you tell me that it hurts you more than it hurts me?”

 

“No,” he replies with his characteristic bluntness.  “I will be hurting you worse.  Over and over again.”  He shifts his position from sitting on the edge of the bed to loom over her.  And now, Rey is very aware of their relative positions of power and their wet, slippery skin on skin.   His nearness and his nakedness suddenly have her trembling. With the same quickness Kylo displayed in the training room, he now shifts to straddle her.  His face hovers mere inches above hers.  She can feel his breath on her cheek.  Any second now, Rey is certain she will be thoroughly kissed.

 

“I will hurt you,” Kylo rasps as he stares into her eyes.  It’s a threat, a confession, a promise, and an apology all at once.  “I will hurt you and then I will heal you.”  He closes the gap between them as he plants a soft kiss on her lips and pulls back.  “I will break you down and build you up. Over and over again until you tell me to stop.”

 

“Kylo—”  She makes to sit up, but he intercepts her hands and laces them with his.  And suddenly, somehow, she’s loosely pinned.  But it’s not scary.  Because Kylo is looking at her with haunted eyes that reveal he’s the scared one.

 

“Promise me you won’t wait until it’s too late to decide to quit.”

 

“I won’t quit,” she whispers back.  “I need this training.”

 

“Fair enough.  But I need us.  And I need this,” he responds as he starts kissing her senseless.  And now that she no longer fears being intimate with Kylo, Rey responds.  For their strange chemistry that makes them attract so strongly and repel so sharply has once again drawn her in.  This enigmatic man, equal parts Dark prowess and Light gallantry, is hard to resist. 

 

That first day begins their new routine.  Kylo spends a few minutes with her each morning before work demonstrating skills and lecturing on the Force.  Then she practices, spends a few hours at the Senate, and waits for him to come home.  At night, they train in earnest.  It’s only the first week and they are just doing basic saber passes, but each day leaves Rey sore and bruised.  She can only imagine how much she is going to hurt when they move on to freezing blaster bolts and mastering Force pushes.  And if she mouths off or her focus drifts, Kylo doesn’t spare her lightning.  In the training room, they are Master and Apprentice.  Kylo doesn’t pull his punches.  But afterwards, he soothes her hurts and holds her tight. 

 

First comes the training, then comes the sex.  First the instruction in Darkness and the pain, then the healing Light and the pleasure.  It’s like every day they fight and every night they make up.  Kylo strikes her as almost guilty in the way he commits himself to pleasing her after first playing the role of harsh Dark taskmaster.  It provokes a baffling mix of intense emotions that repeats again and again.  Rey doesn’t know what to make of it, honestly.  All the physical and emotional intimacy befuddles her even as Kylo seems to thrive off of it.

 

Rey thought that she had faced the worst thing that could possibly happen when she acknowledged the truth of her family’s betrayal.  And then, she thought she faced her new ultimate fear when she ended the war completely alone, her friends dead and her cause lost.  But that was before her current predicament when she finds herself unexpectedly and inexplicably Dark and completely at the mercy of her former enemy.  Some days she feels grateful for Kylo’s help.  Other days she feels exploited. But most days she feels overwhelmed.  This is too much change, too fast. 

 

This new marriage is as complicated as it is treacherous   Kylo is so loving one minute, so unforgiving the next.  It’s confusing. Are there boundaries for what she should accept from him?  Rey has never been in a relationship and she never saw a relationship growing up. Her only reference point is the holonet and their marriage is nothing like what she sees portrayed there.  Rey isn’t really sure how to act as Kylo’s secret Apprentice wife. 

 

But despite all her anxiety, some part of Rey thrills to his attention.  For when Kylo whispers ‘I want you, I need you, never leave me, you belong to me,’ it is everything this abandoned girl craves to hear.  It’s the attention Rey never received and the approval she so desperately wants.  All women want to be desired.  And women like Rey who have endured men’s indifference and scorn perhaps need it more than the rest.  It doesn’t hurt that the man desiring her is the current master of the universe, a man with all the power, wealth, and influence that Rey has long lacked. And so, on some level Kylo’s nightly seduction is empowering. 

 

Plus, all this touch is so addicting.  When you grow up near feral and there is never anyone to hug you tight and kiss away your tears, the comfort of physical touch is an unfamiliar sensation.  At first, it was almost threatening.  Her post-Jakku self has always been a bit standoffish.  But now that Rey has Kylo’s hands all over her, she can’t get enough. Having strong arms hold her tight awakens a need in her long denied. 

 

But this crash course in togetherness scares her, too.  So Rey finds herself pulling back now and then, worried that Kylo will be the next to abandon her.  Because for all his talk of commitment, this has come on very fast.  And Rey worries that it might go sour just as quickly.  That all this Dark passion will flame out without warning.  Nothing good ever lasted for long back on Jakku or at the Resistance.  And so, Rey can’t shake the feeling that this existence is temporary.

 

Still, sex has a way of accelerating a relationship.  Because once you are comfortable naked around each other, you tend to drop your guard in other ways too.  It turns out that physical intimacy is far easier for each of them than emotional intimacy.  But their time together at the apartment has laid the predicate and, little by little, it begins to creep in.   They move beyond talking about the Force and bickering about politics to talking about themselves.   These are quiet late-night conversations that explain how they came to be who they are.

 

With a little prodding, Rey talks about Jakku.   It’s hard at first, but it gets easier each time.  Rey tells Kylo of the ships graveyard. Of the glory of the Imperial Navy slowly rotting over decades in the desert sun.   How she had explored the giant wrecks one at a time for months, wandering darkened halls that once had housed thousands.  She tells him about the mummified downed X-wing pilots entombed in their cockpits.   About the still-live but unstable munitions that would explode from time to time without warning.   About the rival scavengers who would stalk her daily, hoping to seize her find and claim it for their own.  Survival is a ruthless game and you play to win, Rey tells him proudly.   But it has downsides.  Jakku gave her mechanical skills and street smarts, but it also made her a loner with serious trust issues. 

 

Kylo marvels at her ingenuity as she describes how she built a speeder bike entirely out of scavenged parts.  How she reengineered an old flight simulator used for training that she found in a star destroyer wreck.  How she made a home out of a downed AT-AT.  Hers was a make-shift, repurposed world where necessity was the mother of invention.  The desert taught her to improvise and to mimic.  It’s why all this disciplined formal training regimen is new for her.  Rey has never applied herself to schooling of any kind.  She’s self-taught in every way possible.

 

The only thing they don’t discuss about Jakku is her parents.  Rey won’t go there.  She also won’t talk about her time in the Resistance.  It feels like a betrayal of her friends to talk about them to their enemy responsible for their deaths. 

 

Kylo too shares his past.  Growing up, young Ben Solo had every material advantage he could ever want, but little actual attention.  He tells Rey how estranged he had felt from his busy mother slavishly committed to her many pet causes.  How needy he had been for the absent father whose wanderlust and penchant for get-rich-quick schemes and quasi-criminal activities kept him mostly away.   With the vantage point of an adult, Kylo now blames it all on his parent’s bad marriage.  Whatever spark had ignited on the first Death Star had long since burnt out in the humdrum routine of domestic reality.   When the Rebellion won, it revealed that his parents had little in common beyond their war.   So his mother buried herself in New Republic committees and cloaked herself in sharp tongued smugness.   His father disappeared for long stretches, worming his way back into the family every now and then with a practiced charm that had grown stale by middle age.   The pattern repeated itself again and again: his unreliable father would be gone for many months, show up to fight with his de facto single mother and borrow credits, then disappear again.  Little Ben Solo tended to get lost in the shuffle.  He was one more task for his ambitious mother to schedule in and one more responsibility for his father to run away from.  Ultimately, he got shipped off to his uncle.  They told him it was for his own good and that he would become the next great Jedi hero of the New Republic.  But it’s clear that in his own way, long before Luke Skywalker lit a sword over his head, young Ben Solo felt abandoned.

 

I retreated into my own world, Kylo tells Rey, as he describes his years long boyhood obsession with Clone Wars history.   He had made heroes of the historical figures he studied as he immersed himself in the minutiae of the political maneuvering that had led to the great conflict.  At first, his family had encouraged his interest.  No doubt his Rebellion veteran parents had assumed that he would side with the Old Republic.  Only he didn’t.  Ultimately, his youthful knowledge of the Clone Wars formed the basis for all his current political views, Kylo reveals.  From a tender age, he had a jaded view of the Old Republic and a dismissive attitude towards democracy in general.   The Separatists were right, he tells Rey on more than one occasion.

 

His favorite Clone Wars hero was his Jedi grandfather Anakin Skywalker.  I used to talk about him all the time, Kylo reveals.  How Anakin Skywalker was a slave who was bought and freed as a boy by the Jedi.  How he was also the youngest ever member of the Jedi High Council.   I was too young to notice how uncomfortable everyone became.  And I believed the lie they told me again and again that Darth Vader had betrayed and murdered my grandfather.  It was many years before I learned that the Jedi Anakin Skywalker was the Sith Lord Darth Vader. Kylo is bitter as he explains to Rey how his boyish hero worship had just compounded the significance of the lie.  Because in the end, once the truth came out, he found even more to admire about Darth Vader than he had ever thought possible.   My mother and my uncle were both raised on the same lie, Kylo reveals.  And so, they themselves didn’t realize the significance of their deceit.  They were fine with it, and so they assumed that I would be fine with it too.  In so many ways, his family had assumed young Ben would see things the same way they did.  They were wrong.

 

Kylo is obsessed with his family legacy, Rey quickly realizes.  And his version of events is quite different from the tale she knows.  He sees his mother and uncle as victims mostly.  Kylo explains how they were stolen as children by the Jedi die-hards Kenobi and Yoda and manipulated to be instruments of their revenge.  His uncle was a trusting dupe who believed the lies of the Jedi and then spent his life trying to perpetuate them.  His mother was a misguided reformer who too quickly resorted to terrorism to achieve her aims.  Whether she was aiding the Alliance during the Rebellion years or breaking away from the New Republic to form the Resistance, Leia Organa was quick to violence.  And Kylo thinks that made her a hypocrite in the end.  Their ends justified their means just like for Lord Vader, Kylo complains.  For how else can he explain his uncle trying to murder him in his sleep?  One person’s freedom fighter is another person’s terrorist, he grumbles, it just depends on your point of view. 

 

Rey listens passively to him and, in turn, Kylo lets her speak.  What they share is honest and sometimes embarrassing.  Kylo admits to a lot of mistakes and she owns up to a few regrets, too.   Rey knows she has issues and she’s learning that Kylo has quite a few of his own.  Mostly, he is concerned with trust and family loyalty, two things that are very hard for her.  But it helps to explain why Kylo had kept insisting that she join him.  In turn, Kylo knows how much she fears loneliness and craves stability.  After their Jakku talks, he stops teasing her about her survival stash and no longer nags at her to eat.

 

Other people might be broken by their travails.  But being who they are, she and Kylo have each emerged merely damaged.  But determined.   The grit that helped her survive the desert is the same determination that he brings to his vision of the future. The loneliness that dogged her on Jakku is the same fear that fuels his insistence on her commitment to marriage.   The conflict that made them enemies now brings them together as they fumble towards a detente in the Force. 

 

But is it possible to transcend the hurts of yesterday?  She and Kylo are both so trapped by their past even as they say their want a different future.  Kylo tells her over and over again to let the past die even in the same breath that he speaks of Darth Vader.  And Rey can’t talk about Jakku without inwardly thinking of her parents and wondering if those whispers in the Force from the man claiming to be her father are true.  It makes Rey worry that they are both fools who will fall victim to their own hubris.  That there is no balancing the Force and uniting the galaxy.  It’s all just a hoax of their own making because nothing ever changes.  That’s why people say history repeats itself.  When she voices those fears aloud, Kylo nods his agreement.  All we can do is try, he admits.

 

About four weeks in, Kylo leaves early for a day trip to Chandrila.  That means for the first time in a long time, Rey presents herself at the Chancellor’s office to sit in on Army’s early morning meeting.  She used to do this daily but that was before Empire Day. 

 

Army raises an eyebrow even as he smiles at her entrance.  “Well, hello there.  Stranger, you’re late,” he censures as he waves her into an adjacent chair.  “But at least you’re here.  I figured you quit the Senate since you’re never here.” 

 

Rey flushes and grumbles as she sits down.  “I’ve been busy.  But I’m here now.”

 

Army turns back to his Chief of Staff to finish the conversation she has interrupted.  “Ren has called another meeting on the project for later this week.  Make sure it’s on my calendar.  I don’t want him building that thing without my involvement.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” the staffer responds.  Army might no longer be a general but he runs his office and the Senate with the military protocol he was raised on.

 

“Dismissed.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

The staffer rises to leave and so does Rey, but Army shoos her back down.  “Sit, Senator.  We’re not done yet.”  Hux crosses the room now to start tinkering with his pride and joy, the coffeemaker she accidentally tried to steal.  It makes a series of unappealing loud slurping noises and gurgles as Rey sits waiting.  They’ve done this routine before.  In due time, Army delivers her a steaming cup with courtly flourish.  “Behold my latest specialty. An extra hot, double shot caf with low foam and a pinch of cardamom.”

 

“What does that mean in Basic?” Rey deadpans as she takes a sip and ruins the perfectly symmetrical emoji smiley face Army has drawn in the milky froth on the surface.  Unlike his boss Kylo Ren, Army Hux loves little details.  

 

“It means good caf,” Army informs her a bit indignantly.  “Better than anything they pour in your office.  Er . . . I hope.  I’m still breaking in that machine.  It takes months to master the subtleties of a good coffeemaker.  Like all good mechanics, it is temperamental and must be finessed to achieve consistency.”  Army sits back down and cocks his head thoughtfully as he picks up his own cup.  “It puts me in mind of the Starkiller, actually.”

 

“Does that mean it’s going to blow up?”  Whenever Army brings up Starkiller Base to needle her, Rey needles back.  It’s become their inside joke.

 

“The planet collapsed,” he reminds her frostily.  “It imploded rather than exploded.  There was no blowing up.”

 

“You loved that weapon way too much.”

 

“It’s true.  Such a marvelous machine,” he muses.  “She went out with a bang.  Like the New Republic.”

 

Rey doesn’t take the bait to play the role of righteous rebel.  She’s sort of over that posture now.  Instead, she stifles a yawn. “I really need this caf today.  Thanks.”  Rey takes another big slurp.

 

“Up all night with Ren?” Army inquires sourly.  When she doesn’t immediately respond, Hux exhales loudly and scowls at her.  Then he pokes at his datapad and passes it across the table.  “Drink that and look at this.”

 

Rey casts her eyes over the holonet page open on the datapad.  “A tabloid?   Really, Army, I would have thought this beneath you.” 

 

“Do not underestimate my worldliness.  I have high standards but every now and then even I indulge in a little bad taste.  Are you reading?” he prompts impatiently.

 

“How can I not?  This headline is screaming at me.  ‘Leader steals Hux girlfriend,’” she groans aloud.  Yikes. 

 

“Keep reading and keep swiping.” Army sits back now looking very smug.  “Our Supreme Leader is not only an ineffectual administrator of questionable sanity but now he’s a petty asshole too.   And you are the damsel in distress caught in the middle.”  Army nods over at the picture she’s squinting at that shows her and Army chatting off to the side in the crowded arena on Empire Day.   “Great shot by the way.  You photograph beautifully.  We do look good together, even if that’s not my best angle.” 

 

“Ugh.”  Rey groans again.  “This is bad.  This is very bad.”

 

“Don’t say that.  All press is good press when it makes Ren look bad.” 

 

Rey keeps skimming the salacious article full of rampant speculation.  Even if the gist of the facts is sort of true, the details are most certainly manufactured.  ‘Unnamed Palace sources confirm,’” she reads aloud, raising an eyebrow at Army.  “Does that mean you?” she accuses.

 

He feigns innocence.  “Whatever can you mean?  I don’t work at the Palace.”

 

“No, but your buddies do.”

 

“Yes,” Hux confirms with a tight and satisfied smile.  “Yes, they do.” 

 

“I’m not your girlfriend.”  Rey takes objection to that characterization. 

 

“I know that.  You know that.  But the public doesn’t know that.  They think we are the star-crossed lovers of the Senate.   Torn apart by the cruel, jealous villain Kylo Ren,” Army expounds theatrically like he’s giving one of his speeches.

 

Rey keeps reading.  “’A newcomer distinguished mostly by her youth and extremist pro-Republic politics, the Senator is an odd match for Coruscant’s most eligible bachelor, the playboy widower and distinguished general Armitage Hux.’  Wait—you were married?”  Rey looks up.

 

Hux nods slowly.  “Yes.  Don’t go there. Never go there.”

 

“Okay.”  Rey squints down at the datapad as she continues the article in an incredulous tone.  “’Political opposites attract in this case.  Sources say sparks flew when the new Senator scored an office right next door to the Chancellor.  The pair were instantly an item but they only went public on Empire Day.  That’s when the lovely Senator made an ill-advised scene in front of Leader Ren concerning the now disgraced Kuat Senator Cade Biggs who has since been indicted on corruption charges.  In a political stunt worthy of the late Leia Organa, the Senator demanded that Biggs be given a trial.   In his only show of mercy on Empire Day, Leader Ren relented but then retaliated by arresting her.   The arrest turned out to be house arrest when the Leader stole the Senator for his very own.’” 

 

Rey has read enough.  She tosses the datapad back to Army.  She needs practical advice now.  “Does my office need to issue a denial for this?  Or is this publication too scurrilous to acknowledge?”

 

Army chuckles.  “Oh, by all means deny it.  I’m denying it. It will give the story legs.” 

 

Rey groans again.   How is Kylo going to react to this?  She doesn’t know.  “I think I’ll just ignore it,” she decides.  She’ll ignore it and hope that Kylo never learns of it.

 

“Suit yourself.  That will add some ambiguity to the mix,” Army smiles happily.    

 

His smugness grates.  Rey is half tempted to choke him with the Force, but this is Army and he’s her friend so she swallows her anger.  “I didn’t need to start my workday with this,” she complains sullenly. 

 

“Then how about some real news?” Army offers as he takes back his datapad.  “Ren is sending a third of the fleet into the Unknown Regions. It’s a five-year mission to explore strange new worlds.  To seek out new life. To boldly go where no man has gone before.”  The Chancellor’s tone is as grandiose as it is sarcastic.

 

None of that is news to Rey.  She gives an apathetic shrug.  “He’s expanding the Empire.”

 

“He’s taking some of the best ships with the best commanders and exiling them. How very convenient,” Army observes.

 

Rey rolls her eyes.  “They are off to conquer in the name of the Empire.”

 

“Only ostensibly. Have you read the rules of engagement?   We only get to conquer if we encounter unprovoked aggression.  We come in peace, apparently.”  Army clearly finds that sentiment to be preposterous.  “Who does that?” he wonders aloud.  “Ren is getting soft and he’s making the First Order soft, too.”

 

“Who cares?” Rey doesn’t.  She doesn’t care much about galactic affairs these days.  She’s consumed with her own problems.

 

The Chancellor ignores her remark.  “I’m supposed to announce it later this week in a speech.   Ren’s office gave me an outline of themes.  It’s long on scientific discovery, outreach to new cultures and species, and hopes for opening new trade routes and hyperspace lanes.  It’s rather short on conquest.   This isn’t about expanding the Empire and bringing law and order to wild space.  This is mostly about diplomacy and commerce.  But its real benefit is that Ren gets to ditch a third of the fleet.” 

 

“That’s a lot,” Rey nods.   But she, unlike Hux, knows the full reason why.  There’s a lot of the Unknown Regions still to be mapped and Kylo is determined to find the mystery Sith he believes hides there.

 

“It’s a lot especially on top of all those peacetime budget cuts.  There was even talk of scaling back the stormtrooper program but thankfully Ren declined to go that far,” Hux complains.  “But still . . . at this rate of demilitarization, in five years we’re going to end up like the Old Republic without a standing army.”

 

“Who cares?” Rey sighs again.

 

Army is miffed at her attitude.  “Who cares?” he echoes.  “That makes us vulnerable!  The best and the brightest of the military will be off mapping wild space.”

 

She slants Hux a knowing look.  “Those are your supporters, aren’t they?”

 

“Naturally.”

 

“Guess your coup will have to wait five years,” Rey concludes with a smirk.   

 

Army bristles.  “Not necessarily.”

 

She smirks again.  “Going to fire up the cloners and do it Old Republic style then?”

 

Hux’s expression sours.  He leans forward in his chair and asks plainly.  “What’s gotten into you, Rey?  Where’s all that wide-eyed idealism and zeal for reform?  Why are you too bored to bother to show up for anything?  And this snark isn’t you. It’s me,” he points out. “You’re not yourself lately,” Army sniffs, “and I don’t like it.”

 

Yes, she isn’t herself.  But Rey doesn’t answer.   This is not a conversation she wants to have.

 

“Is it those eyes?  I hate those yellow eyes.  Can you do something about those eyes?   They really creep me out.” 

 

Rey looks down.  She hates her creepy eyes too.  She is still very self-conscious about them.

 

“This is Ren’s doing, isn’t it?”  When Rey hesitates, angry Army surmises, “This is how unhappy he has made you.  That’s why you have such a bad attitude—"

 

“He’s helping me,” Rey objects. 

 

“Really?  How?”

 

“He’s teaching me the Force.  He thinks that will help.”

 

“So, you’re the Apprentice now?”

 

“Yes.”  Rey might as well admit it, shameful though it is.

 

But Army’s devious mind clearly sees possibilities in her role.  “Good,” he decides after a moment.  “I can work with that.”

 

“Oh, don’t start,” Rey cuts him off.  “Enough with the treasonous overtures.  You’re a fool to set yourself up against a Skywalker,” she warns. 

 

“Snoke did it.”

 

“Snoke had a Skywalker on his side,” she points out.  “And Snoke died before he could see it through. Ren won.  Don’t you see?  A Skywalker always wins.  They only lose if it’s to another Skywalker. Don’t do this, Army,” Rey hisses.  “You’ll end up dead.”

 

The Chancellor lifts his chin and looks down his perfectly straight patrician nose at her.  “So I should tolerate the Empire being run by an insane tyrant?”

 

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be a tyrant yourself,” she scoffs. “This isn’t about saving the galaxy from Kylo, this is about advancing your own ambitions.”

 

“Yes,” Army plainly admits.  “It’s a win-win for me and the galaxy.”

 

Rey just shakes her head.  “You’ll never do it.” 

 

He is offended at her assessment.  “So you’re saying only some Force freak can rule the galaxy?”

 

“Probably.  Unless it’s a democracy.  Look, if it’s not Ren, then it will be the next guy who comes along,” Rey warns, thinking of the mystery Sith who kept both Palpatine and Snoke up at night and who now worries Kylo greatly. 

 

“How about the next gal who comes along?” Hux says coyly.  “Why don’t you be my Skywalker?  Learn all you can from Ren and then use it against him.  You’ve beaten him once already.”

 

“Stop asking me for treason,” she growls.  “I mean it.  Enough!”

 

“One day the answer will be yes,” Army says softly.  “When you are done with him, come to me.  I will help you escape him.”

 

“I won’t be deposing Kylo Ren,” Rey answers flatly.   She doesn’t want to, and moreover, she needs Kylo’s help.  She might not agree with his methods and politics, but she does agree with his goal of balance.  He’s right that they are strongest together as allies.

 

Hux’s eyes narrow as he peers at her with suspicion.  “You’re not falling in love with him, are you?”

 

“No!”  

 

“He’s got power and wealth going for him, I suppose.  And maybe some women would be into that sad prince thing he’s got happening.  But that hair . . . ”  Army shakes his head in disapproval.  “It’s a good thing he wears a helmet to cover that mullet.”   The Chancellor shoots her a peevish, annoyed look now.  He becomes predictably petty.  “You know, Ren would be nothing without the Force.  He has violent reclusive loser written all over him.  If he wasn’t a Skywalker, he’s be spending hours in a basement somewhere working on his grand manifesto to publish on the holonet before he goes to shoot up a school in some pathetic murder-suicide rampage.” 

 

“Army!”   Rey can feel her temper rising fast.  It’s time to end this conversation.

 

“It’s true.  Whatever you do, don’t get pregnant.”

 

“Army!”  This time, Rey shoots to her feet.  She’s heard enough.

 

But Hux keeps spewing venom.  “Mark my words, if you start mothering his baby Darth Vaders, your life is over.  He’s the controlling megalomaniac type that would love a dynasty.”

 

“Shut up, Army!”  Rey’s tone is less offended and more warning now.

 

But the Chancellor is just warming to his theme.  He runs with his scenario.  “He’ll dump you at his ancestral lava castle and stop by for conjugal visits every so often.  Then it’ll be twin Force babies every year ‘til you’re forty.  Everywhere you look, some caped and masked kid will be melting down and breaking things just like dear old dad still does at age forty.”

 

“SHUT UP!” Rey hollers.  Taking Kylo’s advice not to bottle up her feelings, she vents her anger with words and with the Force.  The coffee cup and saucer Army holds now implode just like Kylo taught her with the kitchen glasses.  It sends extra hot, double shot caf with low foam and a pinch of cardamom all over Army’s handsome Chancellor robes.  As fastidious Army leaps up to survey the damage, Rey screams out, “He’s helping me!  I need his help!  So leave him alone!  Don’t fuck with Ren or you’re fucking with me!” she screeches at the top of her lungs. 

 

It’s a totally unexpected, profane, and hysterical declaration of loyalty that appears to shock them both.

 

“Oh, no.  You are in love with him.”  Armitage Hux is truly aghast as he says the words.

 

Feeling herself teetering on the edge of control, Rey needs to break something else before she melts down.  So, with a grunt, she clenches her fists and focuses her mind and now her own coffee cup and saucer sitting on the table implode in a mess.

 

“I’ll be in my office,” she snarls as she stalks off fast, brushing past the curious staffers who have some to investigate the fuss.

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Army calls after her.


	26. Chapter 26

Rey relents to Mrs. Faris’ recommendation to go shopping once the daily washing of her meager collection of workout clothes starts to take its toll.  Rey really does need a few new things if she is going to keep up her grueling schedule of twice daily workouts during the week.  But when the housekeeper catches her tallying up the balances remaining on the few credit cards Rey has stashed in her underwear drawer in preparation for her shopping trip, Mrs. Faris takes over. 

 

“I’ll set something up for late this afternoon when you’re back from the Senate.  There’s no need for you to go out.  We will have them come to you.”

 

“Here?” Rey blinks.

 

“Yes.  Here.”

 

“Oh.  Well, in that case, maybe I should just order a few things off the holonet,” Rey muses aloud.  “It would be less trouble.”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” the housekeeper sniffs.  “Is there anything in addition to workout clothes that you wish to see?” she inquires.

 

“Maybe a cloak,” Rey decides.  “It’s getting colder.”  Coruscant has a temperate climate, but even its comparatively mild winter feels chilly for a desert girl.

 

“Very well.  I will ask them to bring a selection.”

 

And that’s how Rey finds herself standing stiffly in one of the living rooms greeting two salesladies from one of Coruscant’s most famous department stores.  The women are scrupulously polite but Rey feels very judged as they survey her critically head to toe, sizing her up in one long look in the way only women can.  Suddenly, Rey is mindful of how the dress she’s wearing was bought on sale at a discount retailer.  And can they see the small stain by the hem?  Fashion is not Rey’s strong suit, although she is learning how important appearance is for a woman in the public eye.  Still, Rey reflexively doesn’t like these fashion ladies.  With their perfect hair and slick outfits, they make Rey feel every bit the country bumpkin from the Rim. 

 

And just how did Mrs. Faris explain her presence at the Palace to the salesladies?  Everyone starts calling Rey ‘Senator’ and euphemistically alluding to pleasing Leader Ren, and now Rey is pretty certain that these ladies have read Hux’s planted tabloid rumors.  And that’s embarrassing.

 

As if sensing her alarm, Mrs. Faris intersperses smoothly, “Everyone who enters the private quarters, including tradesmen, sign non-disclosure agreements.  Rey, none of this will find its way to the press.”

 

The two women nod reassuringly and smile.

 

It doesn’t make Rey feel any more comfortable.  She glowers and warns, “Good.  Then if I see my shoe size in some tabloid next week, I’ll know who to tell Kylo to kill.” It’s a biting comment designed to make a point.  But after more reassurances, Rey is mollified.

 

The salesladies have brought a large mirror, a rack of clothes, and a slick hologram projector that shows a computer-generated model of Rey produced from her scanned measurements.  It’s a virtual mannequin that can ‘try on’ selections from the department store’s catalog of fashions to show Rey how they might look on her. 

 

“Wow, that’s creepy,” Rey says at she peers at her hologram self, rotating in 360 degrees wearing a black cocktail dress.

 

“Oh, that’s just an approximation.  You’re much prettier in person,” the lead saleslady hastens to remark.  “But this way, you can see the fall collections in their entirety if you wish.  Shall we get started?”

 

As the meeting gets under way, it becomes clear that whatever Mrs. Faris told these women, they seem to have gotten the wrong idea.  Because they are under the impression that Rey wants fancy clothes.  Their rack of sample clothes is mostly evening gowns, and that’s totally unsuitable for Rey’s actual life.  Do these women think all she does is lounge around in sequins all day?   Nothing could be further from the truth.  They must be trying to make a big sale, Rey decides.  The commission on these designer dresses must be far in excess of what they get paid for selling her t-shirts and workout leggings, Rey presumes. 

 

She is getting irritated and impatient as she listens to the women gush using prissy fashion-y words like ‘curated’ and ‘bespoke’ and ‘couture.’  Listening to them laud her slim figure isn’t helping their case either.  Maybe fashionable Coruscant ladies are flattered to be called skinny, but not Rey of Jakku who once starved.  All things considered, Rey would much rather have well rounded Twi’lek curves than her own narrow hipped athletic build.  But that’s not her body type and Jakku left her with way too many food issues to ever put on weight.

 

“What I really need is a warm cloak,” Rey suggests, hoping to change the focus of the discussion.  She could care less about box pleats and she refuses to wear anything that requires something called double sided tape, whatever that is.

 

“Oh, yes.  We were just getting to outerwear,” Rey is told.  She is directed to the far end of the rack of clothes that holds a selection of cloaks.  Rey pokes through them, rejecting them one by one.  Too shiny, too fancy, too crazy, too aging-lounge-singer-with-a-residency-at Canto-Bight.  “Who wears this stuff?” Rey asks in amazement as she holds up a billowy one in gold lame. 

 

She catches Mrs. Faris’ eye.  “Oh, I can think of someone,” the older woman remarks with a smile twitching at her lips.

 

“Snoke!” Rey laughs out loud.  “Snoke would love this!”

 

“Yes, he would,” Mrs. Faris confirms as the two uncomprehending salesladies blink.  “Try that black one on the end, Rey.  It’s more restrained than the rest.”

 

Rey pulls out a heavy black velvet hooded cape.  It is positively stark compared to the others, with only an embroidered trim for adornment.  It feels very warm, too.  The lead saleslady helps to settle it about her shoulders and then Rey views it in the mirror, pulling up the hood to get the full effect.  Maybe if she pulls the hood down low enough, she will be more incognito when she walks the halls of the Senate, Rey hopes.  She’s tired of people pointing and whispering when they think she doesn’t notice.  Lately, she’s feeling rather notorious.

 

That’s when Kylo stomps in and yanks off his mask.  He looks her over in the cape, ignoring the salesladies who both take a knee in formal greeting and Mrs. Faris who bobs her head in acknowledgement of the galaxy’s Supreme Leader. 

 

“I’m shopping,” Rey explains the obvious.

 

“Bad girl, eh?” Kylo smirks.  “That cape is very Darth Sidious.”   And is that a good thing or a bad thing?   Rey can’t tell.

 

She reaches up to finger at the heavy hood that partly obscures her face.  “It’s warm and it’s a neutral color.  And it hides my eyes,” she explains self-consciously.

 

“I suppose,” Kylo considers anew as he walks around her to get the full effect, “but it also accentuates them.  When you’re covered up like that, all anyone sees is your face.  Still, I like it.  It says Empress to me.  Not like that.” He points to the hologram ‘Rey’ who is currently displayed wearing a low-cut shiny gold evening gown that looks like it might match the Snoke cape. “That says Hux’s hot trampy girlfriend who I stole.”

 

Rey cringes while everyone else in the room makes a point of looking down and saying nothing. “You read that?” she asks weakly. 

 

Kylo glowers.  “It’s everywhere now.”   He reaches over to pluck the hologram control from the hands of one of the sales ladies courtesy of the Force. Kylo starts clicking through their offered selections that Rey has already rejected.  “Get that white one,” he decides, stopping briefly on an elegant long-sleeved white gown with an unusual neckline.   “That looks like you.  And the red one.   I like you in red.  The red one says mystery woman with a scandalous Resistance past.”  He slants a glance over to Rey and smirks.  “The kind of woman who would never date Armitage Hux.”

 

“I don’t need evening gowns.   What I really need are workout clothes to train in.  Clothes I can move and sweat in.”   Rey sends yet another pointed look at the women from the department store.  They are wasting her time with all this finery. 

 

“Yes, Senator,” they dutifully respond.

 

“What else is on here?”  Kylo keeps clicking. 

 

“I don’t know.  I stopped at all the fancy stuff,” Rey replies grumpily.  Maybe some women find shopping to be fun, but not Rey.  This is taking too long and she’s not finding what she wants.

 

Kylo keeps clicking and now the ‘Rey’ hologram mannequin is wearing lingerie.  He chuckles.  “Oh, now we’re talking.”  Kylo clicks past the demure bridal looking peignoirs and stops on a sexy, strappy corset with garters and stockings.  “Hello Hux’s hot girlfriend.”  Kylo lets loose a low whistle and leers at her.  “I would definitely have stolen you if you’d worn that to Empire Day.  Now, that’s an outfit for my Senator sex slave if I ever saw one--”

 

“Gimme that.”  Rey grabs for the controller but comes up empty handed.

 

“On second thought, all you need is the Sidious cape and that get up,” Kylo decides with a rare grin.

 

“Gimme that!”  Rey lunges for the controller again.

 

“Does it come with shoes?  It needs spiky high heels,” Kylo suggests. 

 

“Yes, Sir,” one of the nervous shop girls pipes up.  She’s taking him seriously.

 

Rey shoots her a sharp look.  “I am not wearing that,” she grumbles.

 

“Fine.  You can wear just the shoes and the cape,” Kylo compromises. 

 

“Don’t you have a galaxy to run or someone to kill?” Rey complains as she finally succeeds in grabbing the hologram controller.

 

“This is more fun.”

 

“Maybe for you,” she grouses.  “But I don’t want any of this.  I want some workout clothes.”  This all began because she wanted workout clothes.  How they ended up with Kylo picking out lingerie is beyond her.

 

“Fine,” Kylo nods.  “But you should buy something that looks like it belongs in my Palace.   Buy some new Senator dresses that don’t all look alike.  I can tell what day of the week it is by whether you’re wearing the red, the navy, or the grey one.”

 

“It’s my uniform,” Rey explains testily.  “You have your uniform and I have mine.”

 

“Well, up your game and buy some new ones.  The galaxy thinks you’re my concubine now, so make it look like I’m keeping you in style.  Right now, I look cheap.  A leader should be magnanimous.”

 

Rey makes a face.  “I should have issued a denial when that story came out.”

 

“Yes, you should have.  But it’s too late for that now.”  Kylo turns to her, ignoring their audience as he suggests, “Why don’t we come clean and go public?  The tabloids are going to keep speculating until your presence is officially confirmed or denied.”

 

“Since when do you care about the press?” she grumbles as she jabs at the hologram controller to turn it off.  She doesn’t really want to look at herself rotating endlessly in the virtual black dominatrix bustier any longer.

 

“When?  Since your pal Hux started looking like a sympathetic victim.  Why don’t we tell everyone that you dumped Hux and we’re married?  It’s happily-ever-after First Order style.”

 

“Army and I were never together in the first place.  We’re just friends,” she corrects.

 

“No one is going to believe that now.  Come on, let’s tell the galaxy who you are,” Kylo cajoles.  And Mrs. Faris meets Rey’s eyes and nods her unsolicited agreement with this idea.

 

But Rey’s not going for it.  “I like things the way they are.”

 

“As my woman of mystery?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s going to earn you more attention, not less,” Kylo observes.

 

“Who cares?  I’m just going to ignore it.  I am above the press,” Rey proclaims haughtily as she lifts her chin and throws back the hood of her Sith cape dramatically.

 

“Oh, you are every inch my unofficial Empress now,” Kylo smirks.  “That reminds me.  I have something for you.   Are you done?  Come in my office.”

 

Rey now shrugs out of the velvet cape and leaves Mrs. Faris and the fashion ladies behind as she follows Kylo into his messy private office.  He starts rummaging around in a drawer behind his desk before he locates what he seeks.  It’s a small box he shoves at her.

 

“I want you to have this.  I want you to wear it.”

 

Rey opens the box and recognizes the ring immediately. “This was Leia’s.  I sold this for credits to pay for her care.”  She looks up in disbelief.  “Where did you get this?”

 

“I bought it.  It surfaced here in Coruscant a few months after you pawned it in the Rim.”

 

“How did you even know?” Rey wonders aloud.  What are the chances this trinket would find its way home?

 

“I’ve been searching for pieces of the surviving Alderaanian crown jewels for a while now,” Kylo reveals.  “That ring is part of the collection.”

 

“Oh,” Rey responds as she fingers the large gold ring with two blue stones, remembering the very formidable woman who wore it. In the waning weeks of the war from Crait until her eventual death, Leia Organa had been the closest thing Rey had to a mother figure in her life.   And she’s someone Rey hasn’t thought about in a long time. 

 

“My mother had a small cache of the jewels on her when Alderaan blew.  She sold the tiara, the big necklace and the matching cuff to contribute funds to the Rebellion after Yavin.  But she kept several of the smaller pieces.   That ring was one of them.”

 

“It was the last thing we sold.  She never took it off,” Rey recalls.

 

“I remember.  Years ago, she sold everything but that ring to get seed money to start the Resistance.  I’ve had feelers out to the major auction houses and dealers for a few years now.   I’ve been able to amass some of the original surviving set.   That’s how the ring came to be mine,” he explains.

 

“What prompted you to collect your mother’s jewelry?” Rey asks. 

 

“I’m the Crown Prince of Alderaan.  The jewels are all that remain of my birthright.”  Rey shoots him a skeptical look at this proud speech and Kylo gives an awkward little shrug.  “I grew up hearing stories of Alderaan.  My mother loved to talk about it.  But it’s gone, she’s gone, and only these are left.   Will you wear it?”

 

“I’ve never worn jewelry before.”

 

“It’s a wedding gift,” he tries again.

 

“It’s really big.”

 

“I want you to have it,” he persists.  “She would have wanted you to have it.   You stayed with her until the end.” 

 

It’s true.  Rey had been holding Leia Organa’s hand when she faded away into the Force.  Rey swallows hard at the uncomfortable memory. What would Leia Organa think of her now?  Rey had been very churlish with those fashion ladies in the other room, but truthfully that’s the best she has acted in days.  The Dark Side has made her bitchy in addition to violent.  Recalling Kylo’s always composed princess mother now makes Rey feel ashamed.

 

“Will you wear it?”

 

Rey looks up and meets Kylo’s eyes.  “Okay.”   She slips the ring on. 

 

“Wrong hand.”

 

“Oh.  Right.”  Rey shifts the ring to her left hand.  It fits better there actually.  “She said no one’s ever really gone,” Rey remembers aloud.  “But I never sensed her again in the Force after she died.  And now . . . well, now I doubt I would be able to sense her even if she were alive.”  Rey wets her lips as she looks down at the striking ring and remembers the staunch Light Side Skywalker princess who wore it.  Leia Organa is big shoes to fill.  “She would be so disappointed in me,” Rey whispers.

 

Kylo pretends not to hear.  “It looks good on your hand.”  

 

“It’s heavy. It’s going to take some getting used to.  And people are going to notice.”

 

“Who cares?  It will look nice with your new dresses.”  Kylo tries to lighten the mood now.  “I’m entrusting you with both sets of the Skywalker family jewels,” he smirks.   “Mine and my mother’s.”

 

That does make her smile a little. 

 

“Do you need to go back to your dresses?”

 

“Not really.  I was glad to leave,” Rey confesses.  “I’m not much of a shopper.  You’re still fiddling with the holochrons,” she comments, changing the subject as she picks up a pretty blue and gold cube laying on Kylo’s cluttered desk.

 

“Yes.  I like it,” he admits.  “They teach useful skills. Try one?”

 

Rey shakes her head to decline.  She replaces the cube back on his desk.  “I gave up on those.” 

 

The words come out a bit wistful and suddenly Rey feels choked up.  The Light had become something of a self-identity for her, and its loss has Rey still processing the significance.  Who is she if she isn’t the former Resistance fighter who stands for the ideals of the lost Republic?   What does it mean for the last student of Luke Skywalker to turn Dark?   She might drive a speeder with a JEDIGRL license plate, but these days Rey is the Light forsaken.  In private moments, she mourns an indescribable innocence lost and her commitment to goodness forgotten.  It’s like her moral compass is completely adrift.  Suddenly, Rey sniffs and wipes at a stray tear.  For though she is Dark, she has not completely lost her conscience.  She remembers keenly four men she threw to their deaths on a whim.  She is still very guilty about that.

 

Kylo steps closer, plucks up the cube, and presses it into her hands.  “Don’t give up on the Light.”  He traces over his mother’s ring on her finger with his and adds, “She wouldn’t have wanted that for you.  I don’t want that for you either.”

 

“She never gave up,” Rey remembers the petite Resistance matriarch whose experience and commitment made her a force of nature.  Among her followers, Leia Organa had been a living legend.  “She opposed you to the end.” 

 

Kylo nods ruefully.  “There wasn’t much compromise in my mother.”

 

“No.   There wasn’t,” Rey agrees.

 

“You will never achieve balance without the Light,” Kylo says solemnly.  “I can continue to give you Light like you once gave me the Light.”

 

“Your healing?”

 

“Yes.  But the only true balance will come from the Light within.  You said it yourself to me months ago:  you told me that I needed to be the Light, not steal yours.  You were right.”

 

“I can’t do this,” Rey laments, looking down at the small cube in her hands.  It’s too late for her.  She’s damned to Darkness whether she likes it or not.  She has done terrible things and, what’s worse, she knows she won’t stop.  She has violent urges now and then that she struggles to suppress.  Exploding coffee cups isn’t nearly enough destruction to vent her emotions when they surge.  It can be frightening how much she lusts to kill now and then.

 

“You can do this,” Kylo cheerleads.  “Try again.  Stretch out your feelings and try again.  Coax the Light from within.”  He looks so sincere that Rey goes along with it despite her misgivings.  She closes her eyes and concentrates, but her efforts yield nothing.

 

Rey sighs and hands back the cube.  She feels as disappointed as Kylo looks.  “I don’t know what I would do without you,” she confesses to him in a hushed voice.  “You’re the only one who can understand how I feel and the only person left to teach me.  You know because you are conflicted.”

 

“You are conflicted, too,” he persists.  “And that means there is Light in you.  Don’t give up hope.  Try again.”

 

She does.  Rey tries so hard to quiet her mind and let go of her emotion.  To leave the turbulence of the Shadow Force and the immediacy of her current state behind.  And that’s when she hears the voice again.

 

_Daughter, hear me.   Daughter, help me. You are my only hope._

 

“It’s him,” Rey whispers as her heart starts to race and her body starts to tremble. 

 

_Daughter, hear me.   Daughter, help me. You are my only hope._

 

Daughter.  The word is utterly beguiling.  “W-Where are you?” she wonders aloud. 

 

_Find me.  Release me.  Reunite our family._

 

“Tell me where you are!” Rey insists as Kylo draws closer, looking fascinated.

 

“It’s the Sith, isn’t it?”

 

_Find me.   Release me.  Reunite our family._

 

“What does he say?” 

 

“I can’t help you if I don’t know where you are!” frustrated Rey demands into the air.

 

Kylo takes issue with that statement.  “Wait—no one said anything about helping him—“

 

“Shhh!” she hisses. 

 

And again, the gravely baritone echoes through her mind. 

 

_Daughter, help me. You are my only hope._

 

“What is he saying??”

 

“Shhh!”

 

_Find me.   Release me.  Reunite our family._

 

Then, the voice fades out and the connection is broken.  Rey blinks fast to clear her head.  In the wake of the connection, Rey feels a rush of emotions.

 

“Is he still there?” Kylo demands.   He’s in her face now, insistent. 

 

“No.   No, he’s gone,” she breathes out.   “He’s gone.”   She can’t hide her disappointment.  The connection had been so fleeting. It had barely begun before it was over.

 

“Good.   What did he say?”

 

Insight dawns on Rey as she turns wide eyes on Kylo.  “I don’t think he knows where he is,” she says slowly.  If he could tell her where to go, surely he would, right?  Could he be lost?  Is that possible? “He wants me to find him . . . ”

 

Skeptical Kylo now looks very focused.  “What did he say? Tell me exactly what he said.  Word for word.”

 

Rey does, remembering the precise words as best she can.  “Release me?”  Rey frowns as she echoes the phantom words she heard, feeling puzzled. “Do you think he is in a prison somewhere?”

 

Kylo smirks.  “Let’s hope so. If so, he can stay there.”

 

“He says he needs help,” Rey recalls aloud. 

 

Kylo gives her a sharp look.  “Don’t let him manipulate you.  He’s not your father.”

 

“How can you be sure?” she challenges.

 

Kylo’s tone is stern.  “Your parents are dead.  Your father sold you to Unkar Plutt before he died a drunk in the desert.”

 

“What if the guy who sold me wasn’t my real father?” Rey presses. “What if this guy in my head is my real father?”  Could it be true?  Could she still find some part of her family?  Could her childhood dreams of a reunion still come true?

 

“How is that possible?” Kylo scoffs.   “Sidious was searching for him long before you were born.  Do you think this guy just happened to wander by Jakku unnoticed to knock up your mom and then disappear back to wherever he is now?”

 

It does sound preposterous.  Rey relents in the face of logic.  Deflated, she sighs, “No, I guess not.”

 

“Whoever he is, he’s not your father.”

 

“I know,” Rey agrees mostly to let the topic go.  Because the words in her head sound so true.   They feel true.  Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but still . . .

 

“This could be good news,” Kylo declares grimly.  “If he’s trapped somewhere, we may be able to ignore him.  Maybe that’s what Sidious and Snoke did in the end.  Maybe they found him and left him wherever he is.  Perhaps he’s not a credible threat after all,” Kylo reconsiders. 

 

“I want to find him,” Rey says her thoughts aloud.

 

Kylo immediately pulls rank.  “Leave that to me.  And if we do find him, I must deal with him alone.  Stay out of this, Rey.”

 

She is a bit taken aback.  “You don’t trust me?”

 

“I don’t want you hurt,” Kylo retorts.  “He will only manipulate you.  We have no idea who this guy is or what he wants.”

 

“He wants help,” Rey recalls vividly.  “He wants me.”  He wants his long-lost daughter left to die as a preschooler alone on Jakku. 

 

“He wants a pawn to use,” Kylo snaps. 

 

“But it might be true—“

 

“It isn’t.”   Kylo grabs her upper arms, looks her squarely in the eyes, and starts spouting a Dark Master’s wisdom in the form of tough love. “Rey, you deluded yourself about your parents for fifteen years in the desert.  Don’t delude yourself again.   Listen to me—the Sith were masters of manipulation.  They discovered what you needed or what you wanted and then they twisted your desire to fit their ends.  People went willingly into their control,” he warns.   “Sidious didn’t seize the galaxy—the Republic happily handed it over to him.   That Sith lured people to do his bidding again and again, Darth Vader included.  Don’t you do the same for this guy,” Kylo urges, “or you will put us all in jeopardy.”   His expression hardens.   Kylo is every inch the Supreme Leader as he orders, “If you hear from him again, I want to know immediately.”

 

“I only hear him when I seek the Light,” Rey realizes suddenly.   “That must be why I haven’t heard from him in weeks now.  We stopped messing with the holochrons when you started training me.”

 

“If you hear from him again, I want to know,” Kylo repeats his order. 

 

“Why is he doing this?” Rey looks to Kylo for answers. 

 

“Isn’t it obvious?   To get to me.”  Kylo’s eyes narrow as his voice rises.  “If he gets you, he’s got me where he wants me.  He’ll make me choose you or my Empire, and then we all lose.”

 

“Choose me or the Empire,” Rey parrots his words as the risk sinks in.

 

“Yes.  It’s a classic Sith play.  Choose family or power.  Choose love or ambition.  That’s how these guys operate.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey swallows hard.  And maybe she should be scared to hear this news, but she’s too distracted by the connotation.  “Love or ambition,” she repeats Kylo’s words, looking to him.  “Does that mean you love me?” she asks before she can think to stop herself. 

 

“Of course, I love you,” Kylo snaps back, sounding irritated.  “I wouldn’t marry you or train you if I didn’t love you.”  The words are hardly a romantic, heartfelt declaration like on the holonet.  If anything, Kylo sounds pissed about it.

 

“Oh.”

 

“I love you and you’re just going to have to deal with that,” he informs her.  Kylo sounds determined.  “I’m an emotional guy.  I’m Dark and you knew that, so get over it.  I love you and we’re going to rule the Empire and balance the Force.  I’m not my grandfather.  I’m going to get the girl and the galaxy, and no random leftover Sith is going to take either one from me.”

 

“Right.”  Is this the moment when she’s supposed to reciprocate?  Because somehow yelling that she loves him back feels about right.   They got married in a rush by disapproving lawyers, their wedding night was preceded by a fight about the Force, so this is how they do things.  They are not a sentimental couple who stand on ceremony.  She’s been married a month and today she finally got her ring.  And yeah, it’s a family heirloom but it’s also a relic of a doomed world his grandfather blew up to spite his rebel daughter.  Apparently, nothing says ‘forever’ like some Death Star bling.

 

Rey wants to tell Kylo she kinda-sorta-maybe-does-love him back.  But the words just won’t come out.  And besides, Kylo has moved on.  The moment is lost.  He’s back to grousing about the mystery Sith.  “Do not get involved.  Stay out of this.”

 

And that seems highly unlikely given she’s the one with his voice in her head.  “Then what do I say to him the next time?” Rey demands.

 

Kylo thinks a moment.  “Find out how to find him.   But reveal as little information as you can.”

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

He told Rey that he loves her. It didn’t come out at the best time or in the best way, but he got it off his chest.  And that felt good.  She didn’t reciprocate.  He didn’t think she would.  But now, Kylo tells her that he loves her all the time.  Just to say it.  Because Kylo is convinced that if he loves Rey enough, she will eventually love him back. 

 

So far, he and Rey are making it work.  Marriage is good, he has decided.  Every day, he wakes up to Rey.  And every night, he holds her tight.  For the first time in both of their lives, they are not alone.   And it feels good.   Plus, the sex is amazing. 

 

All this togetherness as husband and wife, Master and Apprentice, is changing them both.  Little by little, skittish Rey is opening up about her past.   Kylo too unburdens himself.  He doesn’t make excuses and he doesn’t sugarcoat things.   He wants Rey to understand him.  Who he is, what he wants, and why.   He has so much to give to Rey and to share with her, if only she will let him.   But he knows from experience how scared she is of closeness.  They are a bit of a mismatch in that respect—he is so needy and she is so remote.  But in an ironic twist, her struggle with Darkness is helping. 

 

As the fiercely independent, principled champion of the Light he fell for fades into the compliant, angry, and occasionally weepy Apprentice wife he lives with, Rey clings to him more and more. The hard shell of Jakku has done more than crack.  These days, it is crumbling fast.  Rey has an air of desperation about her that he doesn’t like, but he benefits from.  For more and more, she seeks his approval.  She is accepting and submissive, even as she is strong and determined.  Those contradictions worry him. 

 

Seeing Rey humbled by Darkness and struggling for identity makes Kylo protective.  She has been hurt enough.  No one gets to hurt Rey now but him.  And he does so nightly.  Hurling her across the room with the surprise Force push that gets past her reflexes.  Tagging her hard again and again with the training saber until her arms are a mess of swollen purple bruises.  Pumping off very low strength blaster bolts for her to freeze.  Inevitably, one gets through and now she has a minor flashburn that bleeds and stings as the skin sears and shrivels.   Kylo heals those wounds and they leave no visible marks.  It’s all in the furtherance of her training, but still . . . there are times when Kylo feels like he is abusing her.   And what’s worse, Rey eagerly takes it.  It uncomfortably reminds him of her clenching glass shards in her hands to focus. 

 

The training is progressing well.  As usual, Rey is a quick study.  Her lightsaber technique has improved rapidly.  She’s got the basic Force combat moves down, too.  Their nightly training sessions now conclude with a mock duel.  He wins, of course, but Rey holds her own.  Lately, he’s had to heal more than a few bruises of his own afterwards.  But Dark power is more than swinging a sword, so when his audience schedule is over for the day, he summons Rey to his throne room for a different sort of training. 

 

She comes directly from the Senate.  He’s not interrupting her because Rey does very little as a Senator these days.   Mostly, she shows up to vote with the regime.  Rey no longer plays the role of the firebrand foil to his administration.  That’s a loss for the cause of balance, but Kylo chalks it up to Rey’s Darkness.  

 

Of course, the press has noticed.  They naturally report that Leader Ren has effectively muzzled his stolen Senator girlfriend.  In truth, Kylo would love for Rey to be publicly trolling him as her old self.   But no one but he and Rey understand that.   The rest of the galaxy persists on believing the worst of him.  His reputation precedes him. 

 

Rey arrives into his throne room looking expensive in the black velvet cape she now habitually wears in public.  From beneath the cape, there are flashes of her elegant mustard colored day dress she was persuaded to buy.   Vivid saturated colors flatter his bride’s brunette coloring and fit nicely with her personality.  For Dark or Light, Rey makes an impression.  There’s nothing pastel about his girl.

 

“Supreme Leader, you wanted to see me?”   Rey enters and kneels gracefully in a puddle of skirts.  Others might mistake her posture for formal etiquette appropriate in this setting, but he and Rey know this is her obeisance due her Dark Master.  She is far more than the regular supplicant before him. 

 

Kylo answers formally.  “Arise, Senator.”

 

They keep up an arm’s length charade in public.  She calls him Supreme Leader, he addresses her as Senator.   They are distant and professionally cordial. But no one in the Palace is fooled.  Rumors still swirl.  

 

“Bring in the prisoners,” Kylo orders to an aide before he dismisses all but the praetorians who line his throne room.  Kylo makes a point of demonstrating his Force skills regularly before his guards lest they get any inclinations for insurrection. 

 

He takes his mask off.  He is in public still, but he never wears his mask around Rey.  It just feels wrong.  He beckons her to his side now as he descends the dais.  Kylo lifts the heavy black cloak from her shoulders to reveal her gorgeous yellow dress.  This is Rey’s signature look.  An exquisite but demure long dress, a tight low chignon, and matte red lipstick.  It’s striking.  She looks feminine but powerful, like a young queen who is not to be underestimated.  Kylo looks her over with approval as he announces, “Today we kill, Apprentice.”

 

He presents Rey with five prisoners convicted of violent capital crimes.  Ordinary, they would merit a firing squad like other condemned men in the Empire.   But today, they will die in furtherance of Rey’s training.  Kylo stresses to Rey that these men deserve their punishment.  But she doesn’t seem to care. Yes, Master, Rey tells him with a gleam in her golden eyes.  She’s already excited for the kill, Kylo realizes. 

 

But there is a lesson to this carnage, so Kylo starts teaching as Rey listens in.  “The Jedi drew a distinction between the Living Force and the Cosmic Force,” he begins.  “The Sith had the same concepts, although they gave them different names.”  Kylo thinks a moment before concluding what is so obvious although it would have been heresy to speak aloud for a thousand generations.  “The Jedi and the Sith were similar in almost every way.  They saw the universe very much alike, but they drew different conclusions from it.”

 

Rey smirks at him.  “Luke didn’t teach me that.”  Sarcasm has become a hallmark of Dark Rey.

 

“You know that the Force is an energy field created by all living things that binds the universe together.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, the Living Force is the tension that builds and recedes as beings and objects interact.   Feel the Force between you and me.  Between you and your victim.  Between you and the wall.  Sometimes there is stasis.  Sometimes there is conflict.  Sometimes there is movement.  But always . . . there is something.”

 

“Okay.“

 

“Understand how the Force feels in proximity to other things.  It helps to explain the relationships of beings to one another and to their surroundings.  You can feel and control the Living Force with practice.  Mastering it is the key to sensing others’ thoughts and emotions beneath the surface.  It is also the pathway to influencing others and reading minds.  The Living Force is how you move rocks and pull lightsabers from the snow.”  Kylo glances over to Rey.  “It’s also how you crush that man’s throat with your mind.”

 

“Yes, Master.”  Rey applies herself to the task and the first prisoner starts to choke and heave.

 

“Yes, good.  Good.  Feel the Living Force within your victim. Feel it dim and ebb.  When life dies, the Force remains but it flows back to the universe at large.”

 

Rey concentrates harder now.  The unlucky man drops to his knees.

 

Kylo resumes his teaching as he observes.  “Many religions speak of an eternal soul.  They are right in a way.  But that soul is not distinct.  The essence of ourselves dissipates to join the greater cosmos.  It’s more accurate to say that we have a collective soul.  We are born, we die, and we are born again in the Force.”

 

“Leia said no one’s ever really gone.”

 

He nods, adding, “Some Jedi found the secret to sustaining themselves in the Force after death.  They prolonged the period before their essence dissolved back into the universe.  They weren’t alive in the usual way.   They were like ghosts in the Force.”

 

“Could the Sith do that?” Rey asks as her victim slumps dead.  She flashes a triumphant grin at her success.  She’s proud.

 

Kylo answers, “In a way.  The Sith tended to concentrate their essence in objects.  They possessed things close to them to stave off the normal dissolution of the self.   But in the end, we are all born from the Force and return to the Force.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  So it will be with these men here today.”

 

“This is . . .  This is . . .”  Rey can’t quite seem to find the words.  Finally, she complains, “Can’t I just use a sword?”

 

Kylo knows what’s giving her pause.  “This way is personal.  There is no tool separating you from your victim.  No blaster shot.  No sword.   Again, Rey.  This time, feel the life slipping away.  Experience his Force as it dissolves upon death.”

 

Rey takes a deep breath and gamely starts in on her next victim.

 

Kylo gives her counsel.  “Be less squeamish this time.  You’re making him suffer when you hesitate.  In general, I prefer a quick, clean kill.  I only let people choke a while if I’m going to let them live,” he reveals.  “Then, it’s more about proving a point.”

 

“Quick, clean kill,” Rey parrots.  And now, she snaps the second prisoner’s neck with the Force and dispenses with the choking altogether.  It makes an ugly crunching sound and then the man falls dead. 

 

“That works,” Kylo approves.  Then, he resumes his lecture on the nature of the Force.  “The Living Force acts in the moment unlike the Cosmic Force that reveals itself with time.  The Cosmic Force is the push-pull ebb and flow to the Force that manifests itself in a collective sense.  It drives history and unravels over years.  It is the rough justice of the universe that rights wrongs as events unfold.  This version of the Force cannot be controlled,” he warns Rey.  “Instead, it controls you.  This is the Force as fate.   This is the essence of destiny.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey makes a face.  “Yes, Master.”  Kylo knows she hates it when he talks destiny.

 

“Snoke used to say that all Force users are agents of change.  We appear on the scene to do the will of the Cosmic Force, as instruments of fate.  We are aberrations who do what others cannot or dare not, and so we play a special role in history.”

 

Rey frowns.  “What does that mean exactly?”

 

“It means that as Force users our choices are only marginally our own.  That our lives take on outsized dimension.  That the ramifications of our failures reverberate far and wide.  Never forget that for as much as the Living Force obeys your commands, the Cosmic Force also controls your actions.  None of us is all powerful.  The Force does not allow it.”

 

Rey bristles at the connotations.  “I decide my own life.”

 

“Only to a point,” Kylo counters.  “From the days after your awakening, the Force intervened, conspiring to bring us together.   First, you found a droid in the desert with a map to my uncle.  A map that I had searched years to find.  On the run from me, you stole my father’s ship.  Then you found Han Solo and found my grandfather’s lightsaber, too.  That’s when I found you the first time.  You escaped, we fought, and then you found my mother and my uncle.  And then, the Force gave up trying to throw us together and simply connected us through the bond.”

 

“That was Snoke’s doing,” she objects.

 

“You’re missing the point, Apprentice,” he chides.  “Over and over again, you kept intersecting with me and my family.  That was no coincidence.  Snoke might take credit for the bond, but it was still the Force at work.  We are destiny, Rey,” he firmly believes.

 

But she’s not buying it.  “I guess,” Rey grouses as she starts choking victim number three.

 

Kylo tries again to explain Rey’s role in a way she will accept.  “You were the change agent who burst on the scene as a catalyst to bring the war to its climax.  Before that, you sat rotting in the desert.  After that, you lived obscure on Dantooine.  But for a critical few months, you intervened as the go-between among warring Skywalkers and changed everything.”  He smiles over at her now.  “You change everything, Rey.  For me and for everyone else.   The Resistance thought Luke would be the one to save the galaxy.  But it was you.”

 

She looks down and away now even as she continues choking with the Force.  “But we lost the war, Master.”

 

“And yet, here you are by my side influencing me still.” 

 

“I guess,” Rey sighs as victim number three dies. 

 

“Force visions are a peek into the Cosmic Force,” Kylo teaches.  “But beware for the future is always in motion.  Visions are easily misunderstood.  The Cosmic Force is fickle and rarely betrays its full secrets to anyone who might seek to impede its aims.”

 

“So take visions with a grain of salt?” Rey looks to him, raising an eyebrow.

 

He phrases it less flippantly.  Kylo never jokes about the Force.  “Look to visions for insight and wisdom,” he advises, “but not for precise details or actual events.”

 

“Yes, Master.  Three down, two to go,” Rey says with determination.  She now declares, “I’m going to choke these next two together.”

 

“Go ahead,” he allows, curious to see if she can do it.

 

She does.  Rey is grinning afterwards at the accomplishment.  But it gives Kylo pause.

 

Maybe as Master he ought to be proud of Rey in this instance.  But truthfully, he hates that this is what she has become.   This isn’t the rebel who pulled a sword from the snow on the Starkiller to take up the cause of her fallen friend.  This isn’t the foolish young woman who stormed Snoke’s throne room to save his soul and prove everyone wrong about him.  This isn’t the kidnapped mechanic who refused to serve in his Senate because she feared being complicit with her enemies.  

 

This version of Rey is indifferent and detached.  Suffering no longer arouses her compassion.  She simply surveys misfortune with clinical interest for there is no mercy left in her.   It’s not that Rey lusts to kill so much that she doesn’t care.   Rey is unmoved and cynical now in the face of death.   Maybe that’s because these five men are convicted criminals, but Kylo doesn’t think so.  Rey might as well be slaughtering battle droids in his training room for all the empathy she has shown.   And that is the furthest thing from the scavenger girl who had compassion for a droid—not even a sentient being—who was lost in the desert.  It’s also a far cry from the Resistance heroine who had compassion for her lonely conflicted counterpart, the notorious Kylo Ren.

 

More and more, Kylo finds the changes in Rey to be disturbing. 

 

This is what Darkness has caused, this is what his schemes have inadvertently wrought.  And Kylo doesn’t know what to think of it. Because he adores the nightly rapture of Rey’s arms wrapped around him and her legs splayed open.  Some part of him thrills when she lowers her eyes and calls him Master with demure submission.  And he’s finding that teaching the Force is oddly fulfilling.  Rey is a diligent student, eager to please and anxious to learn.   Plus, she has become the confidante he needs, listening to his fears and plans for his Empire.   And so, all in all, things are great between them . . . sort of.   Kylo just wishes that the context of their relationship wasn’t Darkness. 

 

Could they ever have come together like this when they were Light and Dark?   Kylo wondered that long and hard last night as he stared at yet another Jedi holochron.  He often retreats to his office to learn more advanced healing techniques while Rey sleeps.  It’s more than idle curiosity.  Kylo worries that one day he might really hurt her in training and not be up to the task of fixing things.  It’s a strange irony that teaching Rey the Dark Side has him compelled to study the Light.  For as she learns the Sith tradition, he seeks out the wisdom of the Jedi.

 

But now, Rey is as oblivious as always of his misgivings.  “Can we try this with Force lightning tomorrow?” she asks hopefully.   His lethal bride is looking for a new and harder challenge, it seems.  Kylo can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. 

 

A wary looking aide now approaches to interrupt. The man has one eye on him and one eye on the bodies on the floor as he dutifully reports the arrival of a special prisoner collected from the Rim.

 

“Bring him in,” Kylo orders.   He has the sudden urge to put his mask back on. To show this new prisoner in particular the expressionless gaze of the galaxy conquering Jedi killer Kylo Ren.  But Kylo resists the crutch.  He does, however, do a little stagecraft.  He climbs back on his throne and motions Rey to join him.  “Over here, my love.”    She looks unsure of herself, but he positions Rey over his right shoulder and gives her a reassuring smile.  She is his right-hand man and the power behind the throne all rolled into one.  For this is always how he envisioned them ruling the galaxy together.

 

“If this guy doesn’t cooperate, you can practice on him too,” Kylo promises. 

 

Rey stands silent as the prisoner is marched forward by a squad of troopers.   The prisoner is not in handcuffs, which is unusual, but Kylo lets it slide.  He is not likely to run away.  He’s a dealmaker not a fighter, as he proved long ago at Bespin.  Kylo waits a long moment for his captive to look over the dead men on the floor.  Truly, the setting for this conversation could not be more perfect. 

 

How old is this guy now?  He must be pushing eighty.  But he’s still sporting an elegant cape with his trademark wide collar.  His only concessions to age seem to be the cane he leans on slightly and a liberal frosting of silvery white through his hair and mustache.  All and all, the old gambler, smuggler, con man, and cheat who styles himself as Baron General Lando Calrissian looks good. 

 

Who talks first?   Does he talk first?   This isn’t your run-of-the-mill prisoner interview.  Kylo opens his mouth to speak but his captive beats him to it, flashing a wide toothy smile like this is a happy meeting. 

 

“Benny.  It’s been a while.  You’ve come up in the world.”

 

Benny?  

 

Benny?? 

 

He should die for that effrontery, but Kylo instead answers with quelling dignity befitting the Dark master of the universe.  “Calrissian.”  He refuses to be baited.  This won’t turn into a screaming match like with Luke on Crait. 

 

The prisoner doesn’t take the hint from Kylo’s coolness.  Instead, he keeps oozing overly familiar congeniality.  “Nah, we know each other better than that.  I’m your Uncle Lando,” he proclaims like this is some sort of family reunion.

 

“You’re a criminal,” Kylo answers back.

 

“Businessman.  These days I’m respectable.  I’ve been legit since before you were born,” the older man contends with a show of good-natured indignation.  “How’s your old man?  Haven’t seen him in a bit.”

 

“He’s dead,” Kylo says with relish, ignoring how Rey stiffens at his side.   He leans forward on his throne to announce, “I killed Han Solo.”

 

“Right.” Calrissian, his father’s on again, off again frenemy and sometime rival, frowns.  “Well, I guess I don’t have to ask about your mother.”

 

Kylo can’t help it.  He shifts a little in his seat.  “I didn’t kill my mother.”  And did that come out as defensive?  Because he’s not defensive.  Not at all.

 

“Yeah? Then watch out,” Lando tells him bluntly, “because she’s probably gonna kill you now.  All politics aside, she loved your dad.”

 

Kylo shuts down that line of argument.  “She’s dead along with the rest of the Resistance.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

Bullshit, Kylo thinks.  There’s no way his mother’s fate is news to Calrissian.  “You responded to her distress call at Crait.”

 

"Yeah, that’s right,” Lando owns it.  “It was a message from your mother.  Of course, I responded."

 

"But you didn't help her."

 

"No."

 

"Of course, you didn't," Kylo observes, adding “Uncle Lando,” with as much sneering sarcasm as possible.

 

Now it’s Lando’s turn to squirm.  "Look, by then it was clear where all this was headed.  And I know better than to take sides in one of your family squabbles."

 

"You mean you knew a losing play when you saw one."

 

"Yeah, that’s right.  I'm a gambler," Lando nods.  "I learned long ago when to walk away. Leia Organa was a damn fine woman.  May the Force be with her.”  He tries another angle now.  “Well, then, I guess that means I’m the only family you’ve got left.”   The old pirate beams at him like the oily, ingratiating grifter he is. 

 

“You’re not my family.  Consider yourself lucky for that.  I kill my family,” Kylo boasts.

 

That wipes the smirking grin off the older man’s face. Calrissian doesn’t have a quick reply to that comment.  His eyes flit past Kylo now to settle on Rey.   Even at an advanced age, Lando still has an eye for the ladies.  Particularly the young ladies.  Some things never change. 

 

“Well, hello, what have we here?  Is this your girl?” Lando looks to him for confirmation. “Benny, my boy, you’ve got good taste.  Senator Rey, I presume?”  Aging lothario Uncle Lando gives Rey an appraising look that is frankly sexual and downright creepy.  “You’re even prettier than in your holonet pictures.”

 

“She’s also more lethal,” Kylo snaps.  “She just killed those five men.  Care to be her sixth?”

 

“Aww, come on,” Lando tries to work his practiced charm, “Benny, don’t be like that.  I bounced you on my knee as a baby.  You don’t know how proud I am of you.”

 

“You are here for the _Falcon_.”

 

That answer is clearly a surprise.  “How’s my ship?”

 

“It’s my ship now.”

 

“Your old man stole—

 

“It’s my ship now.   We impounded it at the last stand of the Resistance.  Claiming that ship would require you to explain why it was in the hands of my enemies,” Kylo points out.

 

“Right.   Well, the chain of ownership is a bit murky,” Lando is no fool.  He takes the cue to back off.  “What can I do for you, Benny?”  Calrissian signals he is ready to deal.  All the awkward preamble is over, it’s time to get down to business.

 

“I want access to the _Falcon_ ’s navigational data from its initial years.  From when it was yours.  I want to see where you flew in the Unknown Regions.”

 

“Your ace code breakers can’t get to it?”

 

“No.  The encryption is unusual and effective.   The ship communicates with a very peculiar dialect.”

 

“That’s L-3.  She was my droid.  We loaded her into the _Falcon_ to preserve her data when she was destroyed.”

 

Whatever. “So, we have an understanding then?   Get me access to the data and I will let you live,” Kylo offers.

 

“I’ll do it for the _Falcon_ ,” Calrissian counters. 

 

“The ship is mine,” Kylo growls.  “You’ll do it to live.”

 

Lando makes a face but relents.  “You drive a hard bargain, kid.  But I like that in a man.  Han would be proud.  I tell you what—I will help you because it is my pleasure.  I will do you a favor and one day you will do me a favor—“

 

“You misunderstand me,” Kylo interrupts. “This isn’t one of your quid pro quos with the drug cartels.  I don’t operate like organized crime.   You will comply and deliver the information or you will die.”

 

“Very well.   We understand one another,” Lando slowly nods.  It’s irritating how unintimidated Calrissian appears.  The old guy doesn’t even have the good grace to look threatened by this interview.  “Where is the _Falcon_ these days?” he asks almost casually.  “I haven’t seen that ship in years.”

 

“It’s parked out back.”  As the giant galling eyesore next to his gleaming new Palace.

 

“So . . . now?”

 

“Now.   Do it and you’re free to go.”

 

“Then lead the way, Benny boy.” Lando offers him a courtly bow as he smirks.    Kylo, who had no intention of witnessing the work on the _Falcon_ , now reconsiders.  He stands from his throne and offers Rey his hand as they step down the dais together.   He’s curious to see how this will turn out. 

 

Lando starts a running commentary as he, Rey, and the obligatory praetorians troop down to the landing platform.  Lando’s acting like they are all friends and this is a social visit.  His chatter is mostly for Rey’s benefit as he walks alongside her.  “The _Falcon_ ’s a great ship.  She was the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy.   When I flew her, she didn’t have a scratch on her.  She had a beautiful paint job.  Gleaming white with royal blue racing stripes.”

 

Rey actually smiles a little.  Kylo does a double take. “It’s hard to imagine the _Falcon_ new,” she murmurs.  And Kylo seethes for how she encourages the prisoner.

 

“Back then she had her big escape pod up front for a more complete look.  And the radar dish on the back was round and not square.  I knocked the original dish off saving the galaxy,” Lando explains nonchalantly.  “We had to replace it afterwards”

 

“When was that?” Rey plays along while Kylo rolls his eyes. He’s heard this war story more times than he can count.

 

“It was the Battle of Endor.  The _Falcon_ and I blew up the second Death Star.”   Lando leans in to tell Rey in a stage whisper, “I saved Luke Skywalker from Vader at Bespin, I saved Han Solo from Jabba the Hutt at Tatooine, and I saved the Rebellion from the Empire at Endor.  So, you might say that saved the galaxy since I saved the people who saved the galaxy.  Yeah,” he smiles, flashing too white teeth, as he reminisces, “those were the days.”

 

“He also helped Vader trap my parents and Luke,” Kylo adds dryly to tarnish Lando’s claims to heroism.  “Then he deserted his gas mining colony full of settlers to the Empire.”  If anything, this guy was an opportunist in the right place at the right time, not a hero.

 

“I regretted that.  But Lord Vader was a persuasive guy,” Lando shrugs.  He turns back to Rey.  “Do you fly?”

 

“A little,” Rey answers coyly.  And wait—is she flirting with Lando?  She is.  Kylo is flabbergasted.  Because really?  Really??  What do women see in bad boys like Calrissian and Han Solo?  Or Hux, for that matter.  Those assholes get all the girls, Kylo seethes, while nice guys like himself can’t get a second look.  It’s not fair. 

 

Calrissian keeps yapping.   He’s all smiles and nostalgic charm.  “You should get Benny here to give you some pointers.  He was taught by Han Solo and Luke Skywalker.  You can’t get better than that.  Have him show you a spin.  That’s his signature move.   I taught him that one.”

 

Did not, Kylo fumes. He doesn’t know who he’s more annoyed with now—Rey or Lando.

 

“I’ve flown the _Falcon_ ,” Rey volunteers.  “I worked on it some, too.”

 

“Are you a mechanic?   Because I have always admired a woman who is good with a wrench.”

 

“I can use a wrench.” Rey confirms with another smile.

 

“You’re beauty and skills, eh?”  Lando chuckles.

 

And now, Kylo has the urge to light his sword and end this walking, talking smarmy relic of his past.  Who does he think he is hitting on Rey?  Thankfully, they now exit onto the landing platform.  Far in the back, looking especially decrepit, stands the old _Millennium Falcon_. 

 

Calrissian stops in his tracks, forcing everyone else to do the same.  “Yeah,” he sighs with appreciation, “seeing that ship sure brings back memories.  Those were some good times.”

 

Hardly, Kylo thinks.  It was mostly drug runs through Kessel and time on the lamb as fugitives from the Empire.  Annoyed with all this saccharine bonhomie, he orders, “Cut the chatter.  Get the data.”

 

“Sure thing.  But you can’t rush these things, my boy.  You certainly can’t rush L-3.  You have to sweet talk that woman,” Lando chides him with a chuckle. 

 

“The droid?” Rey asks in confusion. 

 

“L-3 fancied herself the equal of us sentients,” Lando reveals.  He turns to Kylo now to warn, “You know, you gotta be careful out in the Unknown Regions.  They don’t call it wild space for nothing.“

 

“I’m getting impatient,” Kylo growls as he shifts his hand to his sword at his waist. 

 

Calrissian smiles blithely and takes the hint.  “I’ll get to work.”

 

Kylo hangs back with Rey as the guards accompany Calrissian to the ship where a handful of techs are waiting.  This is as close as Kylo wants to get to his father’s pride and joy.  Most of Kylo’s memories of his father are of Han Solo flying away in that ship.  Just looking at the _Falcon_ makes him resentful.  It’s like he’s ten years old all over again and his father has just ruffled his hair and told him ‘see ya around, kid’ while his fuming mother looks on in silence and the wookiee howls his goodbye. 

 

Rey watches him watching the ship.  “I didn’t know you kept it,” she says softly.

 

“I don’t know why I kept it,” Kylo answers.  “I just did.”  It’s a little like collecting his mother’s jewelry.  He doesn’t have a good reason for doing that either.  Except that when the war ended and all his foes—Luke, his parents, and Snoke—were gone, Kylo had felt adrift.  The conflicts he had organized his adult life around were suddenly over.  He was the winner.  And he hadn’t known what to make of it.  And so, his first instinct had been to keep those memories alive.  Letting the past die is hard for all sorts of reasons, Kylo now knows.  Plus, he suspects that destroying the _Falcon_ would be like destroying Han Solo—deeply dissatisfying in the end. 

 

“Han Solo loved that ship more than anything else,” he mutters.  Just like Han Solo had loved his vagabond shyster life more than his own family.  His father was a man who skirted rules and ran from responsibility.  He was the antithesis of his law and order son who craves commitment and accomplishment.  “He loved that ship,” Kylo grumbles again, feeling ridiculous for being jealous of a broken-down, battle-scarred freighter.

 

As he stares bleakly at the _Falcon_ , feeling equal parts anger and regret, Rey reaches for his gloved hand.  She furtively grabs it and squeezes.  And that gesture tells him ‘I love you’ even if her words cannot.   Her Light Side self may have called him a monster for killing his father, but her Dark version empathizes.  She might not approve, but now she understands.  

 

“What are you looking for?” Rey asks.  “What’s in the data he’s pulling?”

 

“The Captain’s log we discovered from the early years showed quite a few trips into the Unknown Regions.  It was probably smuggling runs.  But I want to see the data.”

 

“You think it will help find our guy?”

 

“It might.  The log has the _Falcon_ flying into the areas we’re still trying to map.  At the very least, it could narrow things down.”

 

“You really want to find him, don’t you?” Rey says warily.

 

“I’d rather find him before he finds us,” Kylo answers honestly. The idea of an unknown Sith lying in wait to pounce unnerves him more than he cares to admit.  A lot of people have died along the way to founding his Second Empire.  Kylo doesn’t want their loss to be in vain because he fails as a leader.  And the first responsibility of any head of state is to protect his people.

 

“I want to be there when you meet him.”

 

Not a chance.  Kylo gives Rey a pointed look.  “I didn’t say I was going to meet him.  I just want to know where he hides.   That way I will know if he leaves.”

 

“You’re still thinking he might just stay away?” Rey asks dubiously.

 

“I don’t know,” Kylo confesses.  But he’s not about to presume that outcome.


	28. Chapter 28

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

 

“Whaaaat?”   Rey keeps her eyes closed.  “Five more minutes,” she grumbles, her voice muffled by her position face down in a pillow.  On Jakku, she slept in a hammock with her staff within reach, ready to leap awake at the first sign of danger.  But her peacetime self is no longer a light sleeper.  She snuggles on her tummy under the covers squeezing in each moment of sleep that she can spare.  Daily training sessions have her body craving rest more than ever lately. 

 

“No sleeping through training,” Kylo chides. 

 

Rey snuggles deeper into the pillow. “It’s too early.”

 

“Actually, it’s late.  But you’re in luck.  We are training in here today.”

 

“Whaaaat?”  Did she hear right?  The bed sags as Kylo sits down and reaches over to locate her left hand under the covers.  He succeeds and encircles it.  Suddenly, Rey is awake.  “Hey!”   That feels like—surely, it’s not—it is.  Kylo drags her hand above her head and attaches the other end of the handcuff to the slats of the headboard.  “What the—“

 

“Be still.”   Kylo easily nabs her right hand as she begins thrashing at the restraint.  As she squirms and protests, he cuffs it to the headboard as well.  Rey is still lying face down, but her hands are tethered to the bed above her.

 

Rey cranes her head over her shoulder to find Kylo smirking at her in his bathrobe.  He’s fresh from a shower with damp hair and moist skin.   “What the Hell is this?” Rey snarls.  She’s none too pleased to wake up to this prank.

 

“Training,” he smirks.  “You can get out of those handcuffs while I trim my beard and get dressed.”

 

“How?” she demands, yanking hard at the restraints.  They feel very secure. 

 

Kylo stands to his feet.  “Use the Force.”

 

Rey glares up at him as she keeps thrashing about, tangling in the sheets. This is not a very comfortable position.  “I can’t do this,” she complains.  She’s still not good with these sort of detail tasks.  Her strength is rough, brute effort. It might not be pretty and it lacks finesse, but it gets the job done.  Lifting tons of rocks on Crait?  No problem.  But waving a door open with her hand?  Well, that takes minutes of concentration still.

 

Kylo encourages her. “Apprentice, if you can get out of a torture chair on the Starkiller, you can escape this.” 

 

“That was different.  That was when I was afraid of you.”  She throws her head over her shoulder and gives him another vicious glare.  “I thought I was going to die.”  She had been desperate, and the Force never deserts Rey when she’s desperate.  But she’s not exactly desperate now.  It’s more like annoyed.

 

Kylo chuckles.  Then he reaches down to tug at the rumpled sheets.  The gesture exposes her back naked to the waist.  Rey might go to bed in clothes but she never wakes up wearing anything.

 

As she struggles, Kylo leans over to trail one long finger slowly down her spine.  And Rey can’t help it.  She shivers.  And giggles.  “Cut that out!” He knows she’s ticklish.  “That’s distracting.  That’s really distracting.”  The degree of difficulty for her escape just got harder with Kylo teasing her. 

 

“I can’t help it,” Kylo smirks.  “You look hot like this.  Really hot.”  Kylo changes his mind and sits back down.  Rey feels his hands on her waist now.

 

“This is so not hot.   This is not hot at all,” she complains.  It’s becoming downright uncomfortable, actually.  She can’t be expected to find the Force like this. 

 

“Oh, it’s definitely hot.”  Kylo’s hands wander around and up to tease at her breasts. 

 

Rey sucks in a sharp breath.  “Stop that!   I can’t focus when you do that.”

 

“That’s the point,” Kylo says sounding irritatingly smug.  “Real world combat situations don’t usually present ideal settings to concentrate.”  

 

“They also don’t present THAT.”   Rey is up on her knees and elbows now.  It causes the sheets to slip down further.  “That’s.  Oh, that’s—that’s oh . . . ”   Kylo’s hands are everywhere suddenly caressing her bare ass.  She and Kylo have always had a strange, combustible personal chemistry.  But in bed, their physical connection is electric.  It takes little more than a kiss and Kylo’s hands on her to get Rey going.  And he loves it.

 

“The handcuffs.  You’re supposed to bust out of the handcuffs.” 

 

“What handcuffs?” she asks and Kylo snorts.  But honestly, for a moment she had forgotten.  Because she can’t think straight when Kylo puts his hands right there. 

 

“You’re supposed to get out of the handcuffs,” he whispers as he leans over to kiss her shoulder blade.  Rey hears a ‘whump’ as Kylo’s heavy bathrobe gets tossed in a heap to the floor.  What is he doing back there?  Suddenly, Rey feels bare skin against hers as he nestles up behind her.  He’s as naked as she is.  And he’s warm from the hot shower and smelling like herbed soap.

 

“I think I like these handcuffs,” Rey groans.  Because is that what she thinks it is?  It is. 

 

“I’ll stop.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Rey pants as Kylo starts to grind against her, the evidence of his ardor growing very evident. 

 

“I think I might like these handcuffs too,” he groans.  He starts shifting his position and hers. 

 

“What are you doing down there?   Oh.  Oh.  That’s what you’re doing.”   She arches her back and spreads her knees to give him better access.  What’s he waiting for?   Rey is ready to get going. 

 

“Aren’t you going to open those handcuffs?” He’s teasing her with his hands and his body now.  Rubbing against her where he knows she loves it. 

 

“Oh, Kylo . . .   Kyyyyylooo. More!” she gasps.  She couldn’t care less about those handcuffs now because she’s gripping the headboard herself now.  Bracing herself as Kylo gets down to work.  Oh, Gods, this is heaven.  Something about this angle or the handcuffs or how Kylo grips her hips hard as he thrusts in drives Rey wild.  Her eyes are closed and her head is hanging forward with her hair in her face as she concentrates on pleasure of his friction.  The cuffs can wait. 

 

They do this nightly but they’ve never done it like this.  Her right-hand slips and the restraint of the cuff kicks in and yeah, this is hot.  And so different.  Kylo is a romantic lover for the most part.  Whispering endearments and kissing her senseless.  It’s the furthest thing from this primal dominant sex play.  But Rey loves it.  She loves it so much, in fact, that it’s over all too soon. 

 

It’s such an amazing feeling as her mind temporarily blanks and then reboots. And that’s when the handcuffs break apart in pieces like Rey once shattered drinking glasses and coffee cups.  And er . . . whoops.  Did she do that?   If so, it was completely by accident.  But apparently, the Force is with her today.

 

Behind her, Kylo spends himself in one last stroke, gasping, “Lesson learned,” as he sees the remains of the broken handcuffs. “I knew you could do it,” he chuckles deep in his throat. 

 

“I think that was more your doing than mine,” Rey confesses, still bewildered in the aftermath of passion and Force. 

 

Normally, this is the moment when she lays in Kylo’s arms and basks in the afterglow of satisfying sex.   Rey revels in their personal connection, in the togetherness she feels.  But not this morning, it seems.  Kylo’s comlink starts buzzing across the room.  It completely spoils the mood. 

 

“Look at the time.  I’m late.  And now I need another shower.”   But Kylo must decide there’s no time for that because he springs from the bed, crosses the room, and starts yanking on his uniform fast. “I’ll see you tonight,” he tells her without looking up as he steps into his boots. 

 

Rey sits up in bed.  She’s miffed at his abruptness and feeling cheated out of more than just her cuddling time.  “What about my training?” she demands.

 

“That was your training.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“We’ll do more training tonight,” Kylo smirks suggestively.   “I’ll bring more handcuffs.”

 

And that obnoxious comment rubs her the wrong way.  She is triggered.  Very triggered.  “Oh, no,” she growls.  “You don’t get to fuck me and call it training.”  That was never the deal.

 

Kylo stands to fasten his cape and runs a hand through his still damp hair.  Even disheveled, he is handsome.  “Sorry, babe,“ he flashes that ironic half-smirk, half-smile that is so Han Solo, “I don’t have time for anything else.” 

 

Rey doesn’t answer.  She jumps out of bed, plucks last night’s discarded t-shirt off the floor, and jams it over her head.  Then, she quickly pulls on the inside-out panties that lay on the floor beside it.  Kylo is placing his sword at his waist when Rey’s training weapon left at her bedside leaps into her palm to ignite. 

 

“Fight me!”  She stalks around the bed and starts swinging. 

 

“Hey!”   Kylo leaps back from her flashing red saber. 

 

“Fight me!”  She keeps swinging and Kylo jumps onto the bed as he sways and swerves to evade her quick blade.

 

“Not now.  Tonight.  Whoa!” She nearly gets him on the right side.  “Can we do this another time?   I’m late for a meeting.  Good feint, though.  Really good.”

 

But Rey refuses to back down.  She feints again and then stabs hard.  “How can you be late for a meeting?   You’re the Supreme Leader.  Nothing starts until you get there, right?”  She grabs for Kylo’s own practice sword lying on a chair and tosses it to him.  “Light your sword and fight me,” she commands imperiously.

 

“Alright, but I have the high ground,” Kylo warns from atop the bed.  He executes a series of saber passes that drive her back and allow him to move towards the door.  Then, he simply calls his helmet to his left hand with the Force, walks out, and keeps walking.  He’s twirling his practice sword in his hand absently as he goes.   It’s almost taunting.

 

“Wait—where are you going?” Rey huffs, chasing after him.  “To my meeting. Where are you going?  You’re wearing inside-out panties.  And no shoes,” he points out.

 

Whatever.  “Snoke wore a bathrobe and slippers.  Why can’t I wear this?  Now, come back here.   We’re not done yet.”

 

Kylo keeps walking.  

 

“I said we’re not done yet,” Rey says through gritted teeth as she charges him.  

 

Kylo whirls in time to block her sword with his own.  “Good,” he approves.   You’re getting faster from the left.”

 

“Yeah?  Well, try the right,” Rey crows as she executes a sweeping arc from the right-hand side.  

 

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Kylo grins.  

 

Rey finds it patronizing after his ‘training session’ earlier.  “I’ll show you cute,” she growls.  “You’re going down!” Rey boasts as she keeps up the incessant pace of attacks.  

 

“I’m going to my meeting,” Kylo corrects her.  Then, he throws up a hand to Force-push her back, but Rey anticipates him.  She blocks the push and sends it right back at Kylo.  It’s a stupid move because it only serves to advance him further down the hallway in the direction he’s headed.  Kylo deactivates his training sword, jumps to his feet, and exits the private quarters easily now.   “Well, that was fun.”   He puts on his mask as he steps past the two praetorians who guard the entrance.  “Life with you is never boring, that’s for sure.  See you tonight,” he calls.

 

“We’re not done yet,” Rey yells back.  She is just warming up.  Normally, they spar for a good half an hour. 

 

“I’m done.”

 

Unwilling to let him walk away, Rey gives chase again.  And now, they are in the busy public areas of the Palace.  It’s first thing in the morning and the hallways are thick with staffers heading to do the work of running the Empire.  But the crowds thin out considerably when Rey and Kylo appear crossing swords. Everyone shrinks back from the sight of Leader Ren wielding a lightsaber, even if it’s not his usual iconic crossguard weapon.  A few concerned officers and Palace guards attempt to intervene to assist, mistaking their public brawl for a real fight.  But Kylo waves them off. 

 

“Impressive.  Most impressive,” he commends as Rey almost disarms him.  

 

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises,” she sneers through gritted teeth.   She keeps up her relentless pace as Kylo keeps falling back. Well, he’s not retreating exactly.  He’s making his way to his meeting as they continue to fight.  She ends up chasing him down hallway after hallway as their swords crackle and hiss.   He’s letting her drive him back in an intentional strategy.

 

Then, abruptly Kylo waves a hand and darts into a conference room full of uniforms.  “At ease everyone,” he barks as the military brass automatically stand and salute.  

 

Three seconds later, Rey bursts in behind him.  She’s panting with exertion as she looks around at the raised eyebrows and curious faces looking from her to Kylo.  Everyone is wondering what will happen next.  With Kylo Ren in charge, things can be hard to predict.

 

But the Supreme Leader is all business now.  “Good.  That’s done,” Kylo decrees as he deactivates his training sword and stalks to the head of the large rectangular conference table.  Kylo wrenches off his helmet and plunks it on the table.  “Now go get dressed, Rey.  You will serve me in the Senate today,” he decrees.  He turns now to the aide on his right.  “Let’s get started.”

 

But Rey isn’t listening.  She’s staring at the holographic design projected in the middle of the table. There’s something very familiar about the hologram even though it’s new to her.   Rey’s eyes now shift to survey the walls.  She silently takes in the engineering blueprints projected on the various screens.  Suddenly, Rey has a very bad feeling about this.

 

It couldn’t be.  

 

Could it?

 

“Wait. What is this?” she demands.  Rey is a mechanic by training, and she’s studied her fair share of technical schematics.  She stares at the rotating projected orb in the center of the table and her eyes narrow.  “This isn’t— you wouldn’t—you didn’t—” she sputters.  Raising outraged eyes to Kylo at the far end of the room, she hotly accuses, “You’re building another fucking Death Star??”  

 

Kylo meets her eyes and nods.  

 

Rey’s jaw drops. 

 

“You will serve me in the Senate today,” Kylo prompts her to leave again.

 

But she’s not leaving.  Incensed at this news and still lusting for a fight, Rey uses an empty chair as a step to leap up on the conference table.  She marches grimly towards Kylo seated at the other end.  She’s barefoot in her inside-out panties and t-shirt with wild hair, yellow eyes, and a lit sword.  But whatever.  She ignores the twelve seated First Order officers who stare up at her open mouthed.  “Oh, you are going down you motherfuck—“

 

“We will discuss this later,” Kylo cuts her off.  

 

But she charges to wipe that impatient look off his face.  And now the battle is rejoined.  Only now Kylo has leapt up on the conference table too.  They swing and lunge high atop the table as the seated officers scramble back to safety. They don’t realize that the swords are training weapons, not the real thing.

 

“You’re the Crown Prince of Alderaan!  You can’t build another super weapon!”  Rey is aghast that there will be more Hosnias in the future.  She might have yellow eyes, but even she knows this is a mistake.

 

Kylo shrugs as he fences.  “Alderaan was gone before I was born.  And my mother was adopted.  She was never an Organa, she was a Skywalker.   If she was a princess of anything, it was the Empire not Alderaan.  Or maybe Naboo,” he adds as an afterthought.

 

Rey tries a disarming pass again, but it fails.  Then, she hurries to duck the sweeping swing that is aimed for her head.  For the first time this morning, Kylo is doing more than defending.  He’s on the attack.  Clearly, she’s ticked him off.

 

Well, good.  Because she’s pissed too.

 

“Your mother took out two Death Stars and the Starkiller.  If you build another, someone will take it out, as well.”

 

“Not likely,” Kylo dismisses. “It takes a Skywalker to take out a Death Star.  And the galaxy has run out of rebel Skywalkers.”

 

“There is me,” Rey warns.  “I’m a Skywalker by marriage.”

 

Kylo disengages and steps back.  And now they parley loudly across the table while a roomful of Kylo’s men watch.  “Is that a threat?” he challenges. 

 

“It might be.”  Rey isn’t exactly sure herself.   “Are you actually building this thing?” She jabs a thumb in the direction of the nearest wall screen.  

 

“I’m thinking about it,” Kylo admits.  

 

“Why?  Why do you need this?   You won,” Rey points out.  “Who is there left to kill?  Why would you need this kind of firepower if you control the galaxy already?”

 

Kylo doesn’t answer immediately. 

 

“Who is this for?” Rey demands.  “Are you reviving the Tarkin Doctrine?   Peace through fear, right?”

 

Kylo looks her in the eye.  “You know why I need this,” he says softly.  

 

Rey blinks at Kylo’s uncharacteristic vagueness.   Then, she suddenly becomes aware of their audience as she scans the roomful of First Order officers looking on.   They don’t know what she knows about the unknown Sith.  That’s top-secret information.  “You’re building this because you’re sending a third of the fleet into the Unknown Regions.   Because we’re vulnerable as a result.”  That’s all public information that’s safe to speak aloud.

 

Kylo nods.  

 

But Rey’s mind is racing.   “No!” she realizes immediately.   She can feel the blood drain from her face.   “This isn’t for protection.  This is for him!   You’re going to find him and kill him with this weapon!”  The protection angle is merely a pretext.  This new Death Star is a tool for aggression.  It’s so obvious now.  How had she missed it initially?

 

“Rey—“  Kylo’s tone is warning.  

 

“You going to kill my father with this!” she accuses, heedless of the information she is revealing.  Because suddenly, she feels panicky. 

 

“Your father is dead!” Kylo snarls.

 

“I won’t let you kill my father!” Rey rages back.

 

“Your father is dead!” Again, Kylo is loud and blunt.  He raises his fist and vows, “I will defend this Empire from all enemies within and without.  The weapon will assist in that.”

 

“He’s all I have left!” Rey wails.  She’s suddenly on the verge of tears.  “Kylo, you don’t do this!  He’s my father!”

 

“For the last time, he’s not your father!  And you have me,” Kylo says indignantly.   He flashes her a look that is both offended and hurt.

 

“Who is in charge of this project?” Rey demands, as she whirls to scan the unfamiliar First Order faces.  “Who’s building you this technological terror?   Which one?”

 

“The general behind you is the brains.”

 

Rey looks down on a portly, mild mannered looking middle-aged bald guy who looks more like a genial businessman than a genocidal mastermind.  “You?   You’re the one?” Rey growls.  When the man warily nods, irate Rey opens her hand and yanks Kylo’s real saber from his waist with the Force.   She’s acting on impulse now.  And that impulse is Dark.

 

“Hey! Why are you always stealing my sword?” Kylo complains.  “I hate that.”

 

Ignoring him, Rey lights the iconic weapon in her left hand and hurls it at the general.  It slices him in two.

 

As Kylo scowls and the other men gasp, the door opens and Chancellor Hux walks in.  Army looks at Rey and Kylo standing on the table still holding training swords and the general in pieces on the floor.  “What did I miss?” he drawls.

 

Kylo immediately fetches his weapon back with the Force. He shoots her a sharp look.  “Rey is now the vigilante of her super weapons ban,” thoroughly irritated Kylo announces.  “She took exception to this morning’s meeting.  General Sticks here bore the brunt.”

 

“So I see.”  Army walks over to look over at the grisly scene.  “Poor Sticky.  He didn’t deserve that.”   Hux shoots Rey an angry glare.  “Did you have to kill him, Rey?   Sticky was brilliant.   We needed him.”

 

“For Starkiller 2.0?” she jeers.  

 

“Yes!” Army snaps.  “The Senate never passed your super weapons ban.  I never even called it up for a vote. In fact, you never even finished writing it.   So where do you get off murdering Sticky?”

 

“I don’t need a vote,” Rey growls.  

 

“Yes, you do,” Army snaps back.  “That’s how democracy works even in the First Order.  You have  to get past me to get to a vote.  I am the Senate,” he boasts.

 

“No, Chancellor, I am the Senate,” Kylo corrects. 

 

“Why do we even have a Senate?  It’s a sham!” Rey retorts.

 

“You’re supposed to be in my Senate arguing for peace, justice, and freedom and the rest of your Resistance stuff.  Now get out of here, get dressed, and go do your job, Rey,” Kylo orders.  “I grow tired of asking, so this will be the last time,” he warns, twirling his sword in an unspoken threat.

 

“You know, you’re a real bitch since you got yellow eyes,” Hux glares up at her.  He’s still mad about General Sticky or Stinky or whatever.  “Ever since you took up with Ren, you’re a bitch.  You used to be such a nice girl.  What happened?  I liked you better when you were the enemy than now when you’re on our side.”  Hux eyes his dead colleague with distaste.  “Actually, I’m not sure you’re on our side . . . “

 

“He doesn’t care who I kill, so why should you?” Rey pouts.

 

“Because this is no way to run an Empire!” Hux throws up his hands.  He gives Rey another look of reproach.  “It was bad enough when there was one of you Force crazies running around swinging a sword, but two of you is too much.”

 

“That’s enough, Chancellor,” Kylo growls.  “Rey, go get dressed.” He jumps down from the table and turns off the training sword.  Rey now does the same.  The fight is over.

 

“Here.”  Concerned Army shrugs out of his heavy Chancellor’s robe and awkwardly thrusts it at her.  “Put this on.  You can’t walk around the Palace like that.”  Still fuming Rey struggles with the heavy garment, and Army moves to assist, primly settling it about her shoulders to cover her.  He leans in and tells her, “He is a terrible influence on you.  Let me take you home.”

 

Kylo overhears.  “She is home.”

 

“Come,” Army tugs her towards the door.  “Rey, end this scene.  Enough already.”

 

“She can walk.  She doesn’t need your help, Hux,” Kylo observes coldly.  There is no love lost between the Supreme Leader and his Chancellor, and no one bothers to hide it.  And given the tabloid rumors of a love triangle, the subtext of this confrontation is juicy indeed.   Their audience is eating this up.

 

Glancing over at Kylo, Army sighs.  “I hate what he has done to you.  Come on.  Let’s talk in private.”

 

“Unhand her,” Kylo persists.  He lights his sword now.  His real sword.  “Unhand my wife, Hux.”

 

“Your wife?”  Army is taken aback.  “Oh, Rey.   What have you done?   What the Hell have you done??”

 

“Don’t answer that,” Kylo interrupts.   “You don’t owe him explanations. You don’t owe him anything.”

 

“But he’s a friend,” Rey protests. 

 

“Don’t be a fool, Rey.  He’s not your friend any more than that voice in your head is your father.  They’re both looking to use you.  Now, go!   Hux, you stay,” Kylo commands.

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux dutifully acknowledges as he moves toward an open seat.

 

“No!”  Rey digs in.  “We are not finished discussing this!”  She’s not about to agree to a new Death Star to be used against her father.

 

“Rey, you are dismissed.  Hux, sit down.  Let’s get started.  We are way behind.  And someone get the staff to retrieve the dead general off the floor.”

 

This is the commanding side of Kylo the First Order and the galaxy see.  But it’s not the man she’s used to dealing with.  So, Rey stands her ground.  “You do not get to dismiss me like you dismiss everyone else!”

 

“Yes, I do,” Kylo responds curtly, his patience clearly worn thin.  He raises his hands and shoots full strength Force lightning that nails her and sends her crashing hard into the far wall.

 

Rey shrieks as she slides down in a heap.

 

“Ren!”  Army is indignant at this treatment.

 

“Back off, Hux.  That’s your last warning!”

 

“I did back off.  She told me to back off.  Said she needed you,” Hux snarls.  The conversation is getting more personal by the moment.  The rumors will be flying after this morning, for sure.  “I don’t know what she sees in you, but she’s a fool for it,” the Chancellor hisses.  Then he turns his attention to her on the floor.  “Rey, you’re hurt.”  Hux helps her struggle to her feet.

 

“I’m fine,” she rasps, clutching at her throbbing arm through the heavy folds of Hux’s cloak.

 

“Is that arm broken?”

 

“You heard her—she’s fine!” Kylo bellows from the far end of the room.  “Now, hands off my wife!” 

 

“Your head is bleeding,” Army fusses as he smooths back her hair. 

 

“I’m fine!”  Rey bursts into tears.  It’s more humiliation to cap off this very awkward, ugly scene.  “I’m fine!” she hollers.  Then, she heads for the door.

 

Rey limps back to the private quarters.  She runs into Mrs. Farris straightaway. 

 

“That’s the Chancellor’s robe,” the scandalized housekeeper recognizes the stately garment that envelopes Rey.  “You’re wearing Hux’s clothes,” she blinks.

 

“Yes,” Rey sighs as she shrugs out of the borrowed cloak.  “Will you have someone return it to his office?  He loaned it to me.”

 

The Palace housekeeper takes one look at Rey without Army’s robe and summons a medic droid.  Sure enough, her left arm is broken.  She also has a big knot on her left temple with a slight bloody graze from where she hit the wall hard.  Her arm seems to have taken the brunt of the hit, so luckily there is no concussion. But the bones need to be set, and so Rey is taken to a nearby infirmary at the local First Order garrison. 

 

The medics at the infirmary ask her how she got hurt and Rey answers with a tightlipped, “I fell.”  Silent, hovering Mrs. Faris who accompanies Rey clearly isn’t fooled.  But she says nothing and Rey is grateful for it.  When they return to the Palace, the housekeeper asks if she wants lunch but Rey declines.  She wants to be alone.  She needs to sort out the confusing mix of emotions she feels about this morning.  Rey is upset, angry, outraged, and hurt.   Her throbbing arm doesn’t help matters.

 

Why can’t she and Kylo be like normal couples who talk out their problems?   Or maybe fight out their problems with words, but not with swords?  Rey recognizes that she and Kylo aren’t the average couple.  Their problems aren’t bills and troublesome in-laws.  She’s not angry that Kylo spends too much time at work or out drinking with his buddies.  She’s not grumpy that he doesn’t do more housework and childrearing or make more credits.   Their problems are far more difficult to solve, unfortunately.   Kylo is worried about balancing the Force and avoiding a coup from the First Order.   She’s got yellow Sith eyes and some mystery voice in her head who claims to be her father.  And they are supposed to be running an Empire.  It’s a lot to manage.

 

Rey had been the aggressor this morning, so she did her part to escalate the situation to violence.  Still, had she not dogged Kylo to his meeting, she would never have learned of his plans.  And that in and of itself is troubling.   She doesn’t like him keeping secrets from her.  For all the hours of First Order pillow talk Rey has listened to, Kylo never once alluded to a new super weapon.  Probably because he knew how she would react.   But all Kylo’s talk of ruling the galaxy together is bullshit if he keeps secrets this big.  Rey thought that they had grown close.   That they were becoming a team.  That they trusted one another.  But she was wrong.  And that makes her feel as sad as she feels foolish. 

 

Anxious for a way to take her mind off the pain and feeling more than a little bit rebellious, Rey ventures into Kylo’s private office.  There, she selects a holochron off his desk and starts reaching for the Light.  She’s not trying to open the little cube.  She’s hoping to hear a familiar voice.

 

She does. 

 

The words echo through Rey’s mind, comforting and beseeching at the same time.  _Daughter, hear me.  Daughter help me.  You are my only hope._

 

“Father.”  Rey speaks aloud the word that she longs to be true.   For here is someone to claim her at long last. 

 

_Find me.  Release me.  Reunite our family._

 

Our family.  It’s such a hopeful phrase.  Kylo might contend that they are family now by marriage, but Rey isn’t very interested in self-identifying as a Skywalker.  That clan has far too many cautionary tales to recommend it. 

_Find me.  Release me.  Reunite our family._

 

There it is again.  The fervent words resonate with Rey on so many levels.  For once she had been the one hoping to be rescued on Jakku.  But now, she will be the one to do the rescuing.  The implications are momentous for Rey.  First and foremost, she is now certain that she was not abandoned.  Whatever or whoever is keeping her family apart, it was against their will. 

 

She was wanted. 

 

“Where?   I’ll come, but tell me where?” Rey cries out into the air.  “How can I find you?” she wails.

 

_Let the Force guide you._

“H-How??”

 

_Let the Force guide you.  The Force shall free me._

“You are in danger!” Rey reveals.  “Help me find you!”  She needs to find him before Kylo finds him and kills him.  “You are in danger!”

 

 _Through the Force, you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free._ The voice echoes its opening refrain again now.  _Daughter, hear me.  Daughter help me.  You are my only hope._   The plea repeats twice more before it fades away.  Leaving miserable Rey perplexed.

 

The Force.  It’s always the Force.  As far as Rey is concerned, the Force has none of the answers.  It just has deeper and more confusing mysteries.  She glumly broods now on what she has heard from her mystery Sith father, wondering what it means.   She tries to meditate, hoping that the Force will send her a vision of a starmap or the name of some remote system that will reveal the location where her father is.  But she comes up empty handed. 

 

Mrs. Faris stops by to check on her.  The woman clearly thinks she is psycho.  She treats Rey with a quiet patience you might extend to an unruly child who is liable to lapse into a tantrum at any moment.  It’s polite but placating.   “You don’t look well, my dear,” the older woman declares.  “Perhaps you should rest.”  Rey takes her up on that offer and naps the afternoon away, sleeping off the strong sedatives the medics gave her to dull the pain from the bacta shots directly into her fractured bones. 

 

That night Kylo finds her on the terrace standing at the balcony.  She doesn’t turn around, but he must see the black sling wrapped around her shoulders that supports her injured arm. “It was broken,” he concludes.

 

“Yes.”  Rey throws her head over her shoulder to glare at him.   She’s still plenty pissed. 

 

“Here, let me heal it,” Kylo offers as he walks up. 

 

But Rey steps away from his hands. “Don’t bother.  I took the bacta shots already.  The medic said it is a simple break. It will be fine in 5 to 7 days.”

 

But Kylo insists.  “I can do better than that.”

 

“No, thanks,” she snaps back, shooting him a look that would freeze water on hot Jakku.

 

Kylo frowns at her rejection. “Does it hurt?”

 

Yes.  “No.” 

 

He must hear the lie because he tries again. “Let me heal it—“

 

“No!  Don’t touch me!” Rey hisses as she eludes him again.  There’s no way she’s letting him heal her. 

 

“Alright,” he backs down, raising his palms in defeat, “but if you change your mind, I will help.”

 

She’s not going to change her mind.  She refuses to let Kylo erase this injury so he can pretend like it didn’t happen.  It’s the same reason why she refuses to wear the bacta patches on her bruised forehead.  Let him see what he’s done. Let there be consequences, for once.  

 

Rey turns back away to look out on Coruscant.  She’s hellbent on giving Kylo the silent treatment because she’s not up for another screaming match or physical brawl.   They’ve done that already.  It didn’t solve anything.  And besides when Rey is upset, her natural instinct is to shut down, not to act out.  It’s a long-ingrained habit from Jakku to retreat to lick her wounds and sort things out on her own.   And Rey has a lot to think about now following the strange conversation with the mystery Sith who calls her daughter.

 

Kylo takes the cue to move on now. “Did you go to the Senate today?”

 

“No.”   

 

“Are you going to go tomorrow?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Are you hungry?  Will you eat?”

 

“No.”  She doesn’t have any interest in having dinner with him tonight.

 

“Then come keep me company while I eat.”

 

“No, thanks.”

 

“Are we going to talk about this morning?” he grinds out, clearly frustrated by her one-word answers.

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“What’s there to say?”

 

“I’m sorry, Rey,” Kylo keeps trying.  “I did not intend to hurt you.  I never intend to hurt you, but—“

 

“We weren’t training.  This wasn’t an injury from training!”  Rey refuses to let him lump her broken arm in with bruises from lightsaber matches.  This morning was a show of dominance before his men and a way to preempt a conversation he didn’t want to have.  That’s very different from a training injury.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kylo grinds out again.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Rey’s reply is snippy.  She’s still mad.   In fact, the more she has stewed over this morning, the angrier she has become.   She’s feeling reckless and rebellious.

 

And now, Kylo adds fuel to her temper.  “Maybe it’s time to take a break from training,” he suggests softly.

 

That’s a non-starter for Rey.   She informs him, “I can still train with the arm.  It’s usable for light duty starting tomorrow once the medic droid confirms that the bones have fused enough. The medics said using it actually promotes healing.”

 

Kylo ignores her objection.  “Maybe we should take a break from being Master and Apprentice.  Let’s just be husband and wife for a bit.”

 

That sets her off.  Rey whirls and starts yelling, “I married you so you would train me—“

 

He overrides her with a soft voice.  “I don’t want the training to come between us.”

 

“It’s not! Your decisions are what I’m angry about!”

 

Kylo is maddeningly calm as he now confronts directly the topic that provoked this morning’s fight.  “I told you that I will handle the guy in the Unknown Regions myself.  You are too emotional about the situation to make good decisions about—“

 

“Stop it!” Rey rails. “Stop telling me that I am gullible and stupid!”  

 

“He’s not your father, Rey.”

 

It’s the same argument they have rehearsed before.  Fuming Rey refuses to repeat it again.  She knows that she is the daughter of a captive Sith Master who Snoke and Palpatine both feared, even if Kylo refuses to admit it.  So instead, she growls, “I am not quitting being the Apprentice.  I still have a lot to learn.”  She has to grow in the Force so that she will be able to rescue her father.   Suddenly, her training has taken on a new urgency.  She has to find him before Kylo’s men do. 

 

But Kylo shakes his head no.  “I don’t like where we are heading.  I don’t want conflict between us.  That was never my goal.”

 

“You promised to help me—“

 

“This is my fault!” he accepts the blame.  “This was a stupid idea and I knew it from the outset!  I should never have muddied the waters by making you wife and Apprentice. If we were an ordinary Master, there would be no issues with what happened this morning.”

 

“Oh yeah?” she challenges.

 

“Yes.  The Apprentice does as he is told or he suffers the consequences.  Obedience is expected.”   Kylo looks troubled as he visibly swallows.  “That’s not how spouses interact.  That’s not how I want us to make decisions.  Rey, I want better than that for us.”

 

“What are you saying exactly?” she demands, impatient with his vagueness.

 

“I’m saying that if you will not quit the role of Apprentice, then I’m quitting being the Master.”

 

“What??”  Rey blinks at this bombshell ultimatum.  She hadn’t anticipated this move. Feeling goaded, Rey now ups the ante. “You do that, and I’m quitting being your wife,” she threatens.  She means it.  This was a quid-pro-quo strategic alliance from the beginning, and they both know it.

 

Yet Kylo looks hurt.  “You would do that?  You would do that to us?”  Then, a split second later he rages.  “You can’t do that!  We don’t get to break up!”

 

Rey looks down, shamed by the intense reproach in his eyes.  Kylo looks hurt, very hurt.  But still, she digs in.  “We had a deal . . . ”  A deal that’s getting worse all the time.

 

“The marriage is forever,” Kylo contends firmly.  “The training is not.  That was the deal!”

 

“You said I could quit.  We never talked about you quitting,” Rey hotly points out.  She matches his volume and tone.  It’s a full-fledged argument now.  “We had a deal!”

 

“The deal was that we would be allies in the Force and in life.  The purpose was to prevent conflict.   Not to promote it.” Kylo looks sincere as he complains, “I don’t want that for us.  Surely, you don’t either.”

 

The solution is simple in Rey’s mind.  “Then quit acting like an overbearing asshole!”   She feels close to tears now as she realizes how serious Kylo is about reneging.  “I need your help!   You can’t do this to me!”  She needs his help to learn the Force or she will never reunite her family.

 

“It’s for the best in the long run,” Kylo decides.  “Let’s take a break while your arm heals.  We can reassess after a week.”

 

That punt is apparently as good as she’ll get tonight.  Kylo looks unwilling to budge and Rey can sense further argument won’t help. So, she announces, “Fine!” and stomps off to her room. 

 

Her empty bedroom has been furnished in recent weeks.  With Mrs. Faris’ encouragement, Rey has made it her own.  But tonight, for the first time Rey sleeps in her own bed and not with Kylo in his room.   She needs her space and she damn well doesn’t want to sleep with him tonight. 


	29. Chapter 29

Contrary to what many believe, the First Order is not a cohesive unit. Behind the scenes, it is an ever-shifting mix of competing military and political factions that rise and fall relative to one another.

This is by historic design.

Snoke paid lip service to the First Order's stated aims, but his true goal was power and Snoke was both pragmatic and patient about achieving it. In the over thirty years since the fall of the original Empire, Snoke used the cause of its rebirth to his advantage, manipulating its cast of would-be leaders while simultaneously funding them with a blank check. Snoke systematically coalesced the remaining Imperial elites, pitted them against one another, and sat back to enjoy watching the fallout. It was a chess game for Snoke. He delighted in choosing and discarding favorites. Little by little, he winnowed the ranks of the Imperial veterans down to a select group of experienced power players. All the while he raised up young talent like Armitage Hux to shake things up. For unlike in the lockstep, seniority driven Imperial career ranks, the First Order advanced its talent without regard to credentials and experience. Snoke was a ruthless businessman at heart. He rewarded results.

That almost entrepreneurial approach to galactic domination has left its mark. In today's post war era, Kylo Ren presides over a disparate braintrust with questionable loyalty. Every high-ranking member of the First Order at least ostensibly espouses the same ideals. But they differ markedly on the means to achieve those goals and the priority of the reforms needed. And therein lies the tension. When you couple that tension with the First Order's culture of naked ambition, the result is a constant ego-driven pissing match cloaked in patriotic rhetoric.

There are military leaders—most notably Hux—who favor a more martial approach to peacetime governance. They advocate for a police state with tightly centralized power and limited freedoms. These are the reactionary fanatics who fear that a new Rebellion will rise if too much dissent is tolerated. They are blind to the role of repression in provoking revolt. Their continued anti-New Republic sentiment alienates whole swathes of the galaxy.

There are others who seek to return to the bureaucratic heyday of the Old Empire. They champion the rule of law backed up by military might. These guys are fine with a Senate and some civil liberties so long as they get to regulate and tax anything and everything. These are the micromanaging control freaks of the First Order. But on the whole, they are more moderate.

Still others want something approaching the mindset of the Separatist Confederacy, with an overemphasis on technology and economic development. They see galactic unification as a means to make trade and manufacturing more efficient. These are the technocrats who seek to maximize the potential of the far-flung Rim worlds by exploiting their raw materials and low wage scales. They see political and economic opportunity in the mostly alien systems the New Republic ignored. But it all smacks of militant colonialism under the guise of helping the poor.

Keeping those three main factions appeased is a full-time job, Kylo has learned, especially since he belongs to none of those constituencies. Strange as it sounds, Supreme Leader Ren has no natural base of support in his own regime. Lately, he's been working on changing that. The new super weapon is a key component of his strategy.

In this, Kylo is taking a page out of his old Master's playbook. Snoke mostly gave his supporters what they wanted. He created a political and military insurgency replete with all the callback touchstones everyone expected. He was the regal, reclusive Dark Side mastermind with the extra-military, mysterious masked Apprentice. He built Starkiller Base, a bigger, better Death Star 3, and he had the balls to use it. He funded a massive army of technologically advanced Imperial-era weapons, from TIE fighters to AT-AT walkers to star destroyers. He vilified the Empire-toppling Jedi Master Luke Skywalker to continue the Jedi Purge and satisfy his supporters' desire for revenge. He even managed to resurrect the old Rebellion as his opposition, with Leia Organa, Admiral Ackbar, and other bygone heroes as his foes. Yes, under Supreme Leader Snoke, everything old was new again. The Empire was ascendant and its glorious return was right around the corner.

Victory came swiftly after Crait, but the aftermath looked nothing like what the First Order power elite expected. For when the dust settled, the Starkiller was lost, Snoke was dead, the flagship _Supremacy_ was crippled and its attendant fleet decimated. And standing at the helm of the fledgling Second Empire was the thirty-year-old heir apparent, the very unpopular Dark Apprentice Kylo Ren.

He's become even less popular in the ensuing three years. And so, Kylo has been trying to give his supporters what they want in the form of a new super weapon. Its plans have been in place since the war's end. But once Rey appeared on the scene again and balance seemed like a real possibility, Kylo let the project languish. But lately, that Sith lurking in wild space has made him reconsider.

It's a win-win all the way around, Kylo judges. The military loves a Death Star. Big guns are their thing. The bureaucrats are fine with it as a nod to the past. Plus, it gives them procurement contracts and countless other tasks to micromanage. And the technocrats? They salivate over these planet killers. They think technology can solve any problem. Plus, the PR will be good. Building a new weapon looks prudent now that Kylo will be sending the best and brightest minds off into the Unknown Regions. The weapon will protect against any insurrection within and all enemies without. All in all, a new Death Star is a good solution to appease Kylo's homegrown critics and address that lurking hater in the Unknown Regions.

A big, game-changing project like this is necessary, he judges. For Kylo is no fool. He knows that Hux and others plot against him. No one has been bold enough to make a move, but eventually someone will. But given the dynamics of the First Order, deposing the Supreme Leader is just the beginning. You also have to unify the other factions behind your rule. Otherwise a coup will turn into a First Order civil war. That means disorder. That means everyone loses. So far, none of the likely usurpers has decided to risk it. Kylo is hoping that in the short-term a new super weapon will stave off the discontent while he works on his public image.

He's not blind to the way he is portrayed. The unpredictable violence he has long employed lately earns him more contempt than fear. And his reclusiveness and disdain for public appearances has allowed others—notably Hux—to enjoy the limelight far too much. The Force he wields intimidates the senior commanders but it is more of an oddity for the public at large. The Jedi have been gone for generations now, and so what was considered a hokey religion in his grandfather's time is now thought of as quaint superstition. No one respects the Force anymore.

Rey is the answer to his image problems, Kylo judges. She could be the beautiful, photogenic First Lady of the galaxy who the press will love. But first, she has to be willing to do it. And that doesn't seem very likely right now. She's giving him the silent treatment. Sleeping alone in her adjoining bedroom and giving him one-word answers. It's discouraging.

So they had a fight? Big deal. She started it. And maybe, this was bound to happen eventually. Growing up, his parents fought all the time. Kylo hated that, but it was normal. His mom never did the silent treatment. Leia Organa was a screamer. And his dad? Well, Han Solo rarely engaged. He just left. So, all this sullen pouting from Rey has Kylo perplexed.

Her arm is healing. Yesterday, she stopped wearing the sling and the brace. But the bruise on her forehead is a lurid yellow-purple now. He's made repeated offers to heal her, of course. But they have all been refused. It makes him a little uncomfortable. Because for all the plate throwing screaming matches around the Solo household, his father had never laid a hand on his mother. He would never have dared.

But then again, Darth Vader's daughter didn't have yellow eyes and she wasn't married to an equally hot-tempered, equally Force-powered Dark Sider. The everyday casual violence of their training sessions had spilled into a regular argument after their sparring match had spilled out of their private quarters and into a business meeting. Sure, it should never have happened. But the Master-Apprentice relationship historically has always bred conflict. And there is something about him and Rey that transcends boundaries and blurs lines anyway. Public and private, Light and Dark, First Order and Resistance, Master and Apprentice, husband and wife, prince and scavenger, Supreme Leader and opposition Senator. They break all the rules and maybe that's the problem. Perhaps they should just be husband and wife for a bit to take the stress off the situation. This marriage is so new and it's got a fragile foundation. Kylo worries he will ruin things if they keep up all this pressure.

The truth is that Rey needs some good, old-fashioned Dark Side discipline to keep her in line. Except Kylo is not prepared to do that. And therein lies the crux of the matter. He's realizing now that he can't quite handle her. And that's a problem because Rey shows no signs of regaining her Light Side orientation any time soon.

Several more days pass during which he offers apologies enough times to grow to resent it and endures more dirty looks. He sleeps alone and eats alone. The Palace feels lonelier than ever even though Rey is still very much in residence. All this rejection is depressing, so Kylo takes to working a lot. He's up late sending messages and reading through reports. And that's why he finds himself returning to his private office one afternoon to retrieve a datafile he left there the night before.

He unexpectedly stumbles upon Rey. She's looking pensive as she sits holding a holochron.

"Talking to Darth Daddy?" he smirks. And, wait. That came out wrong.

But if his sarcasm angers her, it doesn't show. Rey looks glum. "Yes," she admits, looking down at the small cube. "Actually, I was."

He has to ask, "Were you going to tell me?"

She shoots him a look. "Were you going to tell me about your Death Star?"

She may have a point there. Kylo frowns. "What did he say?"

"He says to find him in the Force."

"Let me guess. 'Search your feelings'?"

Rey shrugs. "He didn't say. The rest was the same," she volunteers before he has to ask. "There was nothing else new."

"He's not your father," Kylo insists. His hardnosed scavenger girl is jaded and street smart in so many ways. But in her search for a parent figure, she is as gullible as always. This is the girl who looked up to Han Solo, after all.

"I'm sorry, but your father is dead," Kylo says firmly. "He's not your father."

"He is." Rey looks away and exhales a long sigh. "I wish I could make you understand. He's not lying. I can feel that it's true."

Bullshit. "The Sith were masters of deception. Sidious sat in countless meetings with Master Yoda and other Jedi with no one suspecting a thing. Fully trained Jedi Masters couldn't detect his lies." Rey looks annoyed at this history lesson, so Kylo tries to be more conciliatory. "Don't feel bad. Others have made the same mistake."

She says nothing.

"Sometimes when we want something to be true, we can convince ourselves of it." Like when she had deluded herself for years into thinking her parents would return. So desperate was his abandoned girl for her fairytale happy ending.

Rey still says nothing. She just bites her lip.

"Rey, you're smarter than this." His exasperation is showing now.

"You don't understand." She puts down the holochron and walks apart now to face away from him with arms crossed. It's classic Rey, pulling away and shutting him out. "You know who you are," she gripes with jealousy. "You've always known who you are."

"Well, not exactly," he drawls, thinking of his family's enormous lie about his grandfather.

But she insists as she turns around, "In all the ways that matter, you were raised to know who you are by people who loved you." Kylo opens his mouth to object but she cuts him off. "Your parents might have been lousy parents and your uncle was crazy. And, yeah, they lied to you. But you were a Skywalker raised to know you were a Skywalker and taught to know what that means. And in the end, you learned the whole truth anyway."

He nods along. "I guess that's right." For as long as he can remember, he has been overshadowed by the legacy of heroism and villainy in his family. That's why changing his name and wearing a mask were necessary steps to becoming his own man. Kylo had to adopt a new identity to come into himself.

"Well, I don't have any of that," Rey reminds him. "My past is a mystery. How I ended up on Jakku . . . why I was abandoned . . . how I have the Force. I know none of those answers."

Kylo sighs. He knows she longs for an improbable Skywalker-style origin story, but that's not realistic. He says gently, "There have always been random Force users. Your power could be a complete accident."

"Or it could have come from my father."

"He's not your father."

"You don't know that!" Rey hisses, her yellow eyes flashing.

"Why do you want it to be true so badly? So you can be his Apprentice? So you two can team up against me?" Is his paranoia showing? Because he is very paranoid about that outcome. Blood is thicker than water, they say.

"No!"

"Then why?"

"Because I want a family! I have always wanted to belong to a family!"

"So it's not enough to belong to me?" Kylo feels dissed. "Because we are a family. And if you want, we can have a kid. That's fine by me. It might be fun. Long live the Skywalkers," he smirks.

She gives him a thoroughly frustrated look. "I don't want to be a parent. I want my own parents. Or at least to know who my parents were and why I ended up alone."

"You already know. They were junk traders. They sold you off for drinking money. They were nobody and you are nobody. Be grateful for that," Kylo says bitterly. "There are worse things than being a nobody. Trust me, being somebody isn't always the best thing."

"This isn't about you, Kylo." Rey shoots him a withering look.

"Okay, so . . . you need a father to guide you? You want a big brother to protect you? I will be those things for you—"

"It's too late for that. When I needed a father and a brother they weren't there—"

He throws up his hands now. "Then what do you need the guy in the Unknown Regions for?"

That gets her hackles up. "I won't let you kill him!"

"The issue is not even ripe yet," Kylo points out. "We don't know where he hides. The weapon is still in the design phase. I'm a long way from giving the order to fire when ready."

That logic gets through, at least. Rey concedes, "I know. That new Starkiller was a surprise, that's all. I . . . uh . . . overreacted." She shifts her weight uncomfortably as she acknowledges, "I shouldn't have killed that general."

"No, you shouldn't have. But you were always impulsive even before you were Dark." He cracks a smile at Rey. "I still can't believe you lit a sword on Luke Skywalker." Kylo wishes he had been there to see that.

"It wasn't my best moment."

"Neither was Monday."

"I know."

Kylo is self-effacing now, encouraged by the frankness of their conversation. "Look, who am I to judge? You did what I might have done in your position." Tantrums are kind of his thing. That appears to be little consolation, but he continues, "You know, I let you go on a bit in the room because I initially thought your objection to the weapon was the Light in you resurfacing. I was reminded of the girl who once gave a fiery speech denouncing Death Stars before she got shouted down."

He had been hoping that Rey was finally pulling out of the moral apathy and peevish aggression that characterizes her on the Dark Side. She's alternately angry or sad these days, and consumed with her own predicament. That's the selfishness of the Shadow Force showing, he knows. That scene on Monday had been a low point. Rey had been acting like some impulsive, petulant teenager running around half naked killing people while she swore like a spacer. Old Master Snoke would have fried her ass for ten full minutes for that behavior. But Kylo had pulled his punches and blasted her only once with Force lightning. Still, it managed to break her arm and now he's in the doghouse for that, too.

"I still don't like Death Stars," Rey informs him as she gets back to the heart of the matter. "But I especially don't like Death Stars that kill my family."

"If you are this fierce for some guy you've never met, I hope you will be this fierce in defense of me," Kylo says with a teasing, cajoling smile as he steps closer.

Rey's answer is not the love declaration he's hoping for. Instead, she is pragmatic. "You have my commitment. We made a deal, remember?"

And is that how the orphan scavenger who haggled over parts and portions understands life—as the give and take of a transaction? Or is it yet another brush off for his love? Kylo keeps telling himself that Rey is emotionally repressed and it will take time for her to return his regard. But he's an emotional guy and he needs some reassurance now and then. Can't she at least reciprocate a little? It's comforting that Rey is still wearing his mother's ring and dressing in her regal clothes. She looks the part of Kylo Ren's Senator wife even if they are sleeping in separate beds still.

She looks so unhappy. So, Kylo tries again. "Rey, stop looking to the past for answers. What's done is done. Nothing will change that now. Accept Jakku for what it is and move on. It's the only solution. The best remedy for a painful past is a bright future."

She gives him a sharp look. "With you and your new Starkiller?"

"Yes."

She has no response to this assertion. She just sighs. And tense as it is, this is the best conversation they've had in days, so Kylo leaves it there.

When he returns that night, Rey is on the terrace balcony. She agrees to dinner, which is a surprise to be sure, but a good one. Finally, he's making headway. Feeling like celebrating, he opens a bottle of wine and keeps refilling Rey's glass in an effort to get her to relax. But mostly, the meal is a monologue of his day. He makes his report and then waits for hers. But Rey has nothing to add. She didn't go to the Senate. She didn't go out. She spent the day in the private quarters like she has every day lately.

"Want to go flying?" he offers. Maybe a mock dogfight in a TIE will clear the air.

"No."

"Want to take the speeder out incognito?"

"Not really."

"Want to fly the _Falcon_?" And why did he offer that? The moment the words leave his mouth, Kylo regrets them.

But the offer gets her attention. "It's still here?"

"Yes. Lando gave us access, but the data is old and poorly organized. The IT guys are tearing their hair out over it. They asked to keep it here onsite until they are finished just in case they need it."

"Do they know what ship it is?"

He nods. "I told them."

"That thing belongs in a museum." She's serious.

Kylo makes a face. "You really think so?" He hates how romanticized the _Falcon_ is by Rey and others. But if it will put a smile on her face, he'll fly it with her. "What do you say? Should we do the Kessel run?" he jokes.

Rey doesn't answer. Mention of the _Falcon_ has her recalling Han Solo. "I guess since you killed your own father, you think I should be okay with you killing mine . . ."

Irritated Kylo throws down his napkin and shoots to his feet. "How long is this going to go on?" he demands. He has run out of patience. "I told you the issue isn't even ripe. We can just agree to disagree for now."

"Or what? You'll break my other arm?"

Looming over her, Kylo grinds out, "How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" When she just glares at him, Kylo gives in to his own reckless impulse and yanks Rey to her feet. He is angry and shaking her now as he vents his frustration with her coldness. "I am sorry that I hurt you. I would have healed you if you had let me. If I could take it back, I would. But I can't. I can't change the past! I can't change the things I've done to hurt you or the things that others have done to hurt you! All I can do is love you."

He doesn't wait for her to answer. He's done with arguments and reproach. He just wants things back to the way they were before. So as Rey opens her mouth to speak, he dives for it. Gathering her in his arms as he drowns her in his incessant kiss. He's an emotional guy and he needs this connection. Words have failed him, so he resorts to actions now.

They are both panting when he comes up for air. Rey's tight chignon is messed up from his hands in her hair. Is she about to slap him? Throw him with the Force? Or kiss him back? Any outcome is possible with Rey.

But when she hesitates, he seizes the moment and goes in for another never-ending kiss. Her hands snake up to encircle his neck and that reveals she's thawing a bit. Ever the aggressor ready to press his advantage, Kylo breaks the embrace to bend and sweep her feet out from under her. Then, he carries her off to bed. His bed.

"Let me love you," he breathes into her neck as he starts fumbling with her dress. He really needs some makeup sex to clear the air between them. And after their habit of daily lovemaking, going cold turkey for a week has him horny as Hell. So, Kylo sets himself to the task of seduction. Kissing, licking, caressing, stroking. He peels the clothes from her body with slow insistence. And now it's warm skin slipping against warm skin and hands interlaced together. Does Rey need this as much as he does? Does this mean the same for her as it does for him?

Afterwards, she lays still and quiet in his arms, her head on his chest and one arm clasped around him. It's oddly childlike how she clings to him, her head ducked under his chin. It occurs to him now that Rey might need this comfort and security like she needs her survival stash. It fills a need deep inside that went unfulfilled at important times, and so now she seeks to fill it. Except there will never be enough water to erase the memory of her desert thirst, and no amount of protein bars will alleviate the feel of starvation. Just like no matter how many times he tells her he loves her, it will never cure Rey's longing for a parent. That is the crux of her anger, he knows. The silent treatment isn't about a broken arm or a break from training. It's about a conniving Sith who seeks to lure her and use her.

Well, it's his job to protect his wife just like it's his job to protect his Empire. And so, Kylo is determined to keep her safe from the predatory man in the Unknown Regions. Plus, he refuses to run his Empire constantly looking over his shoulder for Rey's supposed father to pounce. In the long run, Kylo hopes she will understand. This is best for everyone.

But tonight he will not renew that fight. Kylo wants to revel in their reconciliation. He and Rey will never be a couple who see eye to eye on every issue. He's fine with that. On some things, they will have to agree to disagree. The siren Sith in wild space is one of them.

He strokes Rey's hair absently as she sighs with contentment. Is she as relieved about tonight as he is? "I missed you," Kylo confesses softly. "I missed this."

"Me too," she whispers back. He can feel her sincerity in the Force. Yes, she loves him. In so many little ways, Rey shows him that she loves him even if she never says the words.

"I want nothing to come between us," he tells her fervently. "There is conflict everywhere around us, and people who actively seek to bring us down. I want to prove them wrong. About my leadership and about the future. I need your help to do that." He adds with a deep sigh, "The Sith were right. Peace is a lie. But that doesn't mean it's not a worthwhile goal."

She says nothing, so Kylo keeps musing.

"I need you, Rey. I'm not sure I understood how much until this last week. You came into my life again from Dantooine and nothing has been the same in a good way." It's hard to believe it was only months ago when she showed up a prisoner in his throne room.

Rey speaks up now. "I saw the medic today. He pronounced me completely healed. I'm ready to start training again."

"I want nothing to come between us," Kylo repeats with conviction. "Not anything. Not this mystery Sith, not Hux, not politics, not the Force. We are strongest together."

"It doesn't hurt at all," Rey adds. "It's like nothing ever happened. The rest did me some good overall," she concedes, "but I'm ready to resume now."

"This is good. This. Here. Now. This is enough. Let's not muddy the waters. You've got all the basics down now anyway. Let those sink in some. You can practice on your own, but let's continue our training break for now," he responds.

"But I want to learn."

"Then learn in the Senate. Learn Hux's job. Eventually, he will make his move and I'm going to have to kill him. I want you to be his replacement. You'll make a wonderful Chancellor." And somewhere looking on from the netherworld of the Force, his mother will love it.

Rey shifts and stiffens in his arms now. "I don't want to be the Chancellor. I want to learn the Force."

"There is more to governing than swords," he chides, dropping another kiss on her head. She feels so good laying against his chest.

"I don't want to govern. I want to balance the Force with you," she pouts.

He strokes her hair some more as he nods. "We will. In time, we will. But there's no rush. And there are more pressing issues now."

"But what about my eyes?" Rey persists.

"No one sees them much under your cloak. And Dark training isn't really making any difference," he says aloud what they both know. Rey's yellow eyes are here to stay.

"So I'm supposed to be a Senator?" she chokes out, sitting up. She looks distressed.

"First and foremost, you are my wife. The Senator part is my bonus," Kylo jokes as he pulls her back down and squeezes her tight. "This is good, Rey. We are good," he reassures her.

"So no more training?"

"The Force is the work of a lifetime. You can't rush it. We'll pick training back up someday. Not now. For now, let's just be this."

She doesn't reply, so he takes that silence for agreement.

It turns out to be a big mistake. He should know by now never to presume anything with Rey. But still, in the morning when Kylo wakes to an empty bed he is surprised. Did Rey rouse first? He wanders into her room. It is empty but the closet door is open. Inside is Rey's small but growing wardrobe and her survival stash. And that's the sight that gives him pause. Because the neatly stacked flats of water bottles and boxes of protein bars are opened. Rey has taken some out.

Rey never takes any out. She hates it when anyone consumes her stash. She only ever adds to it. She never subtracts.

Fuck.

Instantly, he pulls open the drawer where Rey keeps her real lightsaber. It's gone, just like he fears. Now, Kylo runs back into his room to yank on some pants and grab his sword. He immediately knows where to look next. He flies down the hall in a sprint past the praetorians who wouldn't have had the authority to stop Rey. Kylo himself had ordered that she have full ingress and egress at the Palace unmolested by security. Not that they would have been able to stop her. Kylo remembers what Rey had done to Snoke's guards and that was before she had any formal training.

He keeps running through the empty Palace. It's either too late or too early for anyone to be around. He makes it to the landing platform and, just as he suspects, the _Falcon_ is gone.

Fuck.

He stands there staring, waving off the guards who come to offer assistance. No one can help him now.

Fuck.

Kylo stalks back through his Palace. He feels a fool for not having seen this coming. And, sure enough, when he bursts into his private office, the holochron on his desk is missing. She took some water, some bars, her sword, the _Falcon_ , and the holochron. Everything she needs for a trip to the Unknown Regions.

Fuck. He should have seen this coming.

Luke Skywalker refused to teach Rey, and she fled to him. Because Kylo was the only option. Or so they both thought at the time. But when he stopped Rey's training, she fled again. This time, she has fled to the Sith no one knew existed. That has to be where she's gone. Because somewhere out there in wild space lurks a substitute teacher for the Dark Side.

Fuck. He didn't see this coming.

She's fled in search of his enemy she calls father. The Sith's lure is a success. Now, if she finds him, Kylo and his Empire will be at the mercy of a merciless man who both Palpatine and Snoke knew to fear.

He's in a terrible position now. Deeply hurt and frustrated beyond belief, Kylo lights his sword and stomps into Rey's room. He proceeds to destroy it. Slicing his saber through the furniture and Rey's meager possessions. But it's not enough, for the more he thinks through the scenarios the worse his predicament becomes. So Kylo heads next door and destroys the bed they shared together. He shuts his eyes and swings again and again to vent his surging hopelessness. For he is every Dark emotion now: angry, bitter, sad, and hurt. She let him down. Like he feared all along she would. Rey was too immature, too damaged, and too rootless to accept what he offered her. But too beguiling, too full of promise, and too powerful in the Force to resist.

END PART TWO

More to come . . .


	30. Chapter 30--Story Notes to Part 2

Hello and thanks for reading.  Here are some thoughts on Part Two.

 

Dark Rey is one of the few Reylo scenarios that I have resisted.  But it’s certainly a possibility, given Rey’s background and her persistent impulses to violence.  _Force Awakens_ has lots of moments that show Rey with a hair trigger to lash out.  I think that’s mostly supposed to show us that she’s a Strong Female Character Who Can Take Care of Herself, but in the real world that quick resort to violence would be a red flag.  She thrills to destroying TIE fighters with glee in the _Falcon_.  Yes, it’s a wartime scenario, but Rey has no problem killing.  And we know the Dark Side beckons to her on Ahch-To.  So, it’s not too much of a stretch to consider Rey turning Dark.

 

But still . . . I have never written a truly Dark Rey.  The closest I get is _Fulcrum_ when Rey becomes somewhat neutral in the Force. Her allegiance is to her family and not to the First Order or any set of Dark ideals.  But look out to anyone who tries to get between _Fulcrum_ Rey and her husband or child.  She is more complicit narco-wife or Mafia princess than truly on the Dark Side.

 

I suppose _Darker_ ’s Eleena Daru, Lord Malgus’ love, fights for the Dark Side. But she’s not a Force user and her allegiance to Ye Olde Sith Empire is more a consequence of her awful experiences as a slave in the Republic and her desire to help her Sith Lord lover than it is any true political allegiance.  She’s chosen her side in the war and she’s fighting to help them win.  But Eleena is not Dark by any stretch of the imagination.

 

One of the reasons I never write truly Dark ladies is that I don’t like the idea of evil women doing bad deeds.  Call me old fashioned, but I like to think of women as being a moral conscience of society.  Most women end up mothers, and mothers create families and hold them together.  They are their children’s first teachers, imparting values and wisdom.  Having vindictive power-hungry mommy violently conquering the galaxy and betraying people just feels wrong.  Frankly, I’d rather put my heroine on a pedestal than make her a monster.  

 

But here we are with Rey growing Darker.  That raised some issues.  First: why?   That answer is coming in Part 3 and it has nothing to do with Kylo.  Kylo and Rey don’t know that, of course, so the coincidence of having her awaken to Darkness when she goes to bed with Kylo muddies things up.  Cause and effect can be confusing to determine.  As a result, Kylo feels responsible and that gives him some ownership of the problem and some guilt to motivate him to agree to Dark training.

 

But how do you do Dark training and not have Kylo be abusing Rey?   I guess on some level all Master-Apprentice relationships are abusive even if the Apprentice is consenting, but having this also be a romantic relationship makes that feel especially icky.  Again, call me old fashioned but switching up the gender of the Apprentice from male to female puts a different gloss on training.  Now, I have written an abusive Reylo relationship (see _Fulcrum_ ) and I don’t want to rewrite that story.  My solution here is to have Kylo be a reluctant Dark Master who agrees up front to let Rey out of her Apprentice gig  if she wants.

 

But there are definitely overtones of toxicity to this tale and Kylo recognizes it even if Rey for the most part does not.  I did that intentionally because many women find themselves in abusive relationships and don’t fully realize it.   That’s how you get in this position and sometimes why you stay in it.  Lots of abused women have a rationale for why their guy acts the way he does and they don’t see themselves as victims.  Plus, there are some relationships that are just plain toxic, where the partners egg each other on to excess. Rey and Kylo have some of that dynamic here. 

 

Making Rey Dark is only interesting to me for the consequences on her psyche.  I don’t see much fodder in Rey running around wearing black acting all Dark Side badass bitch.  She’s not the almost cheerfully droll and cynically amoral Ventress from _Clone Wars_ (LOVE her BTW).  The drama of making Rey Dark is that it’s something she hates and doesn’t want and can’t handle.  We’ve taken the powerless scavenger orphan girl fighting for the Light and made her the ultimate First Order insider Senator wife with yellow eyes.  We’re horrified, she’s horrified, even Kylo is horrified.  She’s far less confident, weirdly more clingy and whiney, and casually violent on the Dark Side.  Consumed with her own issues where before she was always reaching out to help others.  It provokes an existential crisis for Rey.

 

That’s a huge deal because how we see ourselves matters.  Who are you?  Who do people think you are?  Judging by the number of shapewear and bra ads that show up on my feed, the Facebook algorithm thinks I am obsessed with underwear.  It’s annoying.  Nothing could be further from the truth.   What is it that I click on that has me pegged this way?  I’m truly perplexed.  Well, Rey is struggling with who she is when she unexpectedly turns Dark and ends up Mrs. Kylo in record time. And all the while, there is a voice in her head calling her daughter, teasing at yet another role she might play.  I love the fact that Kylo seems obsessed with overcoming his lineage while Rey is determined to discover hers.  Who is she?   Rey has just stolen the _Falcon_ to go find out.  

 

A lot of fans have theories on who Rey really is and whether Kylo lied about her parents. I have written a few different genealogies for Rey myself.  As a fan, I’m totally fine for Rey to be a nobody.  But I love her having a hidden past, too.  Family is the most enduring drama of our lives, with all its messy complexities.  However Rey’s past turns out, I tend to think that Kylo did not lie to Rey in _Last Jedi._   I don’t see Kylo as anywhere near that manipulative.  In fact, I tend to think that everything he tells Rey in _Last Jedi_ is sincere.  (I also tend to believe that everything Snoke says in _Last Jedi_ is also true, and not for dramatic irony—but that’s another issue.)

 

I am already sad that the Skywalker saga is ending with Ep.9.  I love the drama and failure and ambition of this family.  It's not that I can't enjoy Star Wars without Skywalkers--I would be DOWN for a Knights of the Old Republic trilogy in a heartbeat--but random "here's what Obi-Wan was doing on Tatooine" ancillary type stories lack the emotional impact for me.  I enjoyed _Rogue One_ mostly for the last hour of war and for the bit at Yavin 4.  I didn't really care about the characters.  I liked _Solo_ a lot more and I was very intrigued by the characters of Quira and Darth Maul.  I thought _Solo_ was a much better movie with much more vivid characters than _Rogue One_.  Can Disney wrap up the Skywalker saga in Ep. 9 in a satisfactory way?  I don’t know.  But I’m optimistic.

 

I have written quite a few Reylo weddings.  This one is perhaps the most perfunctory.  It’s not the elopement on Ahch-To from _Son of Darkness_ or the bedroom exchange of promises over the Endor moon from _You Need a Teacher_.  This wedding has zero romance.  It’s more a merger of equals.   My own wedding many years ago was a complete disaster (Note:  not an exaggeration), so while I like a nice wedding I view it as completely optional to long term happiness.  The decision to marry Mr. Blue was the most important decision of my life, but my wedding day was far from the most important day of my life.  It actually ranks far behind other days in retrospect.  So I am happy for a casual ad hoc ceremony. It truly is the commitment that matters.

 

In my stories, sometimes marriage is a way to assert control ( _Fifth Wife_ ), sometimes it’s a commitment after a reconciliation ( _The Chosen One_ ), sometimes it’s a shotgun wedding performed by angry Snoke ( _Immune to the Light_ ), and sometimes the actual wedding never occurs ( _Ghosts_ , _Tied on a_ _String_ ).  Weddings occur in defiance ( _DARKER_ ), in secret ( _Fulcrum_ ), and in all sort of places (temples, hospitals, castles, warships).

 

Why all the weddings?    Because I like commitment and I always envision Rey and Kylo being people who need commitment after the betrayals of their respective pasts. I also personally believe that a commitment isn’t really a commitment unless it’s formalized in some way.  And that’s why my lovers always end up married (or quasi-married like Malgus who treats Eleena as wife). My Dark Side heroes are always marrying men—it’s sort of a running trope in my stories that once the hero and heroine go to bed, the hero starts proposing.   No commitment issues here!  My Dark Side men are always the aggressors in the relationship.   Sometimes, they are downright predators.

 

Those who have read my Sith tales will recognize that Kylo and Rey have unwittingly gone through some of the steps of the Sith marriage ritual--they have said the words, everyone has cut their left hand.  If there were moonlight and the setting were a Sith temple, they'd have completed a Dark sacrament for sure.

 

A note about content similarities with my other fics.  I have written a lot of Reylo and each time the characters have different aspects and challenges.  The context and backstories shift some here and there, but there are far more similarities in my stories than differences.  That’s not me being lazy.  It’s just that when I imagine certain scenarios and settings, they often come out the same way because that’s how I tend to see them.  So if the description of the rise of the First Order and of life at Luke’s Jedi camp seem familiar from other stories, they are.  And if there is always a treasure trove of Jedi holochrons and sabers at Vader’s castle, it’s because that’s how my head canon works.  Sometimes I put my characters in the same situations just to show how they react differently in different stories.  For example, angry _Fulcrum Two_ Rey pulls a blaster on Kylo.  She shoots and keeps shooting until stormtroopers tackle her.    But when the much softer Rey of _His Padawan_ pulls a blaster on Kylo, she can’t quite pull the trigger.  Two different stories and two different depictions of the same character.

 

This is a blueenvelopes story, so everyone is a villain and everyone is a hero.   No one’s all bad and no one’s all good. It’s a mix and a mess.  Like life.  Nuanced and sometimes conflicting.  I don’t write villains determined to do bad things.  I write villains who think they are doing the right thing, that their misdeeds are reasonable or deserved.  I also write good guys/good gals with misgivings who make mistakes. 

 

As Mr. Blue continues to recover from the accident, he is full time back at work, and that includes traveling.  But he can’t drive or fly on his own just yet, so I have been his helper for just about everything.  That has left me with a lot of time to write.  I get Blue to where he’s going—some meeting usually—and then I amuse myself all day.  There are always dinners at night so I get him there and disappear to the bar or get my own table and kill time typing on my phone.  And that’s why this story was written in the late-night bar of the Palace hotel in NYC, in a Palo Alto Starbucks full of Stanford kids arguing California politics, bored wandering some mall in Dallas, and in airport lounges, Dr. office and physical therapy waiting rooms, as well as my usual kids sports practices and games and, of course, parked in carpool line.   It’s been a bit crazy.  Even when we’re home, getting Blue to and from work every day has upset our routine.  I’ve let everything slide and I keep dropping balls that should be in the air.  School sent home a notice last week that my kids have been tardy 16 times this year.  Me:  is that all?  My doctor informed me at a checkup last week that I’m up 15 pounds from my weight this time last year.  Me:  is that all?  Hopefully, by summer Blue will be fully healed.  But in the meantime, I’ll just muddle through and try to write more and eat less. 

 

Next week, at long last Blue finds out if he gets his big promotion.  Fingers crossed.  It’s gonna be ugly at my house if he loses out.  At the hospital in November, Blue was bitterly complaining that his leg sends a terrible message at the office (priorities!) and meanwhile the nurses keep asking me “are you going to faint??  you look like you’re going to faint” and the orthopedic surgeon is talking options to reduce (gulp) amputation risk.  It was sort of a classic Blue family moment.  We seem to roll from crisis to crisis lately, but we keep trying to keep up appearances.  Just don’t look too closely.  So if this story has suffered in comparison to my other tales, know that it’s written less because I have something to say and more because I need a diversion.  Reylo sex in a Palace is so much sexier than bidding your husband goodnight in the downstairs recliner he sleeps in because he can’t get up the stairs. 

 

Anyhow, I digress.  There will be more to come.  Part 1 is all about Kylo getting what he wants and convincing Rey that she wants those things too.  Part 2 is Kylo getting more of what he wants but for reasons he doesn’t want (Rey is Dark).  Part 3 is Rey getting what she wants—answers about her family. 

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

Luckily, the _Falcon_ is fully fueled when Rey steals it from the Palace landing platform.  The ship is basically just as she remembers it from almost three years ago when the First Order seized it at the last stand of the Resistance.  The old freighter has a lot of deferred maintenance, as always, and it’s looking plenty worse for wear inside and out, but it’s perfectly flyable.   And, well, Rey isn’t in a position to be picky. 

 

She immediately jumps to the edge of the Outer Rim—a full two-day flight from Coruscant.  There, she makes a quick stop at a sketchy space station supply depot for a few necessities and some more fuel.   Rey won’t risk stopping someplace more reputable that might have a First Order presence.   So far, she hasn’t located a transponder on the _Falcon_ , but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.  For all she knows, the ship has been tracked through hyperspace and she has Kylo’s henchmen in hot pursuit.   Moreover, that single supply stop pretty much exhausts Rey’s credits.   Even without pursuers, Rey knows that she won’t be able to wander forever in wild space looking for her father.   She needs to be efficient about her search.  

 

So, she picks up the pretty little holochron cube stolen from Kylo’s desk.   There’s nothing magic about holding it.  It’s really just a crutch to help her concentrate.  Oddly enough, Rey only ever hears her father’s voice when she’s searching for the Light.  She’s not sure what to make of that.  But yet again, Rey quiets her mind, dampens her anxiety as best she can, and struggles to find the Force.  This time, she tries to initiate contact. 

 

“Father, hear me.  Help me find you.”  Rey says the words aloud as she reaches out in the Force.  She’s grasping for something, for anything.

 

But she finds nothing. 

 

She tries again.  “Father, help me find you.” 

 

Again, nothing.  

 

Rey refuses to get discouraged.  She keeps trying.  “Father, help me find you.”  She repeats the effort again and again.  After what feels like many long minutes, Rey makes contact. 

 

_Daughter_.  The familiar voice reverberates through her head.

 

“Yes!   It’s me!  It’s Rey!”  She leaps up from her seat with surprise, excitement, and relief.   Finally, she is getting somewhere.  “Where are you?”

 

_Find me in the Force_.

 

And what does that mean??   Because she’s talking to him right now in the Force.  “How?  How do I find you?” Rey demands.  She needs concrete directions or at least for him to talk her though it.

 

But no such luck.  The gravelly baritone voice repeats the earlier advice.  _Find me in the Force.  Trust in the Force._

 

“Where are you?”  Rey strives but fails to keep her growing frustration from her tone.

 

_I would appear to you and lead you to me, if I could.   But I cannot.  Find me in the Force_. 

 

He doesn’t know where he is, Rey recalls again.  “Tell me what to do,” she begs now.  “I don’t know what to do.”

 

But the cryptic answer yields no solace.  _You must trust in the Force_. 

 

Great . . . just great, Rey scowls.  Trust in the Force and she will find her father in the Force.  That seems like a stretch to Rey.  Because didn’t Emperor Palpatine and Supreme Leader Snoke—men of far more Force knowledge than she—search years for this guy to no avail?  Rey is a realist about life and she doesn’t like her odds, but she swallows her misgivings.  Determined, she begins the rudimentary concentration exercise Luke Skywalker taught her back on Ahch-To.   “Reach out . . .” she coaches herself through it.

 

The attempt yields nothing. 

 

Next, Rey tries the meditation skills Kylo had demonstrated. 

 

Still nothing.  

 

Now, Rey holds the holochron and tries to summon the Light again. 

 

And . . . nothing. 

 

Her connection to the Force is still haphazard when it comes to mental concentration.  Rey can easily levitate objects and throw items around at will.  Tangible, physical use of the Force comes very quickly now.   But abstract tasks like this are a challenge.  Rey doesn’t know who she is looking for and she doesn’t know where to look.  It’s hard to visualize in her mind’s eye what she is doing.  Frustrated, Rey decides to take a break.  And that means she returns to her brooding. 

 

Will Kylo ever understand what she is doing?  Honestly, Rey isn’t sure.  She’s not doing this to hurt him or to jeopardize his Empire.  She’s doing this for herself.  Because she has to know who this man is who calls her daughter.  Even if he’s a fraud and this is a trap, she must find out for herself.   And, yes, it’s a risk.  Maybe even a huge risk.  But how many countless souls have taken huge risks for family over the years?   Rey is simply one more added to that long list.  And what if this really is her father and he truly does need help and Rey turned her back on him?   She could never live with herself then.  For no one knows what it is to be alone and desperate quite like this orphan scavenger girl. 

 

What will the mystery Sith be like?   Is he truly her father?  If so, will she disappoint him?  And what happened to the rest of her family?  Rey has so many questions and quite a few fears.  Is she being manipulated?  Will this man use her like Kylo claims?  What will he make of her yellow eyes?   Will they please him if he’s a Sith?   And can he help her make sense of her power?   She needs a teacher.  She desperately needs a teacher.

 

Kylo had tried.  He had really tried to help her until he gave up.   But Rey isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.   She will not go gently into the Dark night.  She keeps raging hard against the dying of her Light.   Feeling conflicted, confused, and more than a little frustrated at her predicament.  So, when Kylo had unilaterally stopped her training, it was just the nudge Rey needed to seek out her father.  Because this mystery Sith might have the answers she needs that Kylo does not.  

 

But first, she has to find him.  That’s no small task.  Rey now declares her break over and resumes her efforts to search the Force for clues.  She runs through every meditation exercise she can think of and makes up a few of her own.  But she makes no headway.  It’s discouraging.

 

Time for another break.  Feeling increasingly guilty, Rey belatedly decides to send Kylo a message. 

 

_I’m fine.  I left to find my father.  I hope you understand why I need to do this.  When I find him, I will return._  

 

She pauses typing now, knowing that Kylo will consider her quest a repudiation of their commitment.  And maybe in some ways, it is.  He reneged on his promise to train her, and Rey feels betrayed as a result.   Their alliance was for mutual gain and now her benefit of the bargain is gone.    Well, not quite gone.  Because Rey is far from indifferent where Kylo is concerned.   Their marriage was never just an arm’s length business deal.   And so, she adds one more crucial sentence.  _I love you_. 

 

Somehow, it’s much easier to type those three words than it is to say them out loud.  For inasmuch as she can, Rey loves Kylo Ren.  Not in the gushy demonstrative way he probably wants.   Rey is not a sentimental girl.   But she takes her family bonds seriously.   It’s why she spent years languishing on Jakku.  It’s why she has left in search of her father now.   She’s not choosing her father over her husband, she’s choosing them both.  Although she doubts Kylo will see it that way. 

 

Rey eventually falls asleep, drifting in space to conserve fuel but with her shields up.  It is a fitful night, like those nights on Jakku when she dreamt of Luke Skywalker’s island.  Like those nights on Dantooine when she dreamt of Kylo holding out his hand saying please. Only this time, Rey dreams of a verdant sunshiny paradise, with lush fields of fragrant flowers, stunning mountain vistas, and dense green forests teaming with wildlife.  Rey wanders alone through this storybook land, marveling at the natural beauty and happy peace of the place.   For it is full of harmony, packed with life, and bursting with Force.  It puts a smile on her face and balms her anxious mind.  Yes, this is just the respite she needs from her troubles.

 

Then night falls in the paradise, and suddenly it becomes a foreboding, scary world.  The temperature drops and visibility is limited to what can be seen by starlight.   Now there are pelting cold rains and lightning displays that light up the sky and fell tall trees.  Needing shelter, Rey heads for the mountains, hoping for a hospitable cave to ride out the storm in.  But instead, she finds rocky cliffs with treacherous footing and dank caverns that all lead to the same deep lava-filled chasm.   Rey stands there on the precipice breathing in the acrid sulfur smell, thinking that this otherworldly place surely must be some version of old-fashioned Hell.  But there is Force here too, she realizes.  For unsettling though it is, all this change, danger, and violence is necessary as well.

 

It’s like on Luke’s island.  For Ahch-To too was full of life, but tempered with death and decay.  It too was both warm and cold, peaceful and violent.   It too had extremes just like this mystical paradise.  And in between . . . in both places . . . Rey senses balance.   That balance is from the Force existing in its entirety, with its natural ebb and flow.  And, Rey suspects with a flash of insight, that balance is from the absence of any Force wielding interlopers to tip the balance of power.  Is that why Luke Skywalker cut himself off from the Force?  So as not to disturb the balance?  Rey had assumed it was out of disgust and guilt, but now she’s not so sure.

 

It only takes a small spark to relieve pitch black darkness, but every light casts a shadow of its own.  Could this be the lesson of balance—that the two sides of the Force are less in opposition than they are indelibly intertwined?   Could the distinctions drawn by the Jedi and the Sith be more convenient fictions than truth? 

 

Soon it is daytime again in the paradise, the storm has passed, and the sun is out.  Rey exits the dark places in the mountains that gave her shelter, feeling unexpectedly grateful for them.  Stopping now for a drink from a placid lake, Rey cups her hand and bends down.  But she freezes, surprised by what she sees.  For her reflection no longer has yellow eyes.  She looks like her old self.

 

And that’s when she wakes with a smile.  Rey has one word on her lips.  “Zakuul.”  It’s unfamiliar and cannot be a coincidence.   Kylo always says there are no coincidences, just like there’s no such thing as luck.

 

Encouraged, Rey immediately starts going through the navicomputer, searching for the word.  She finds nothing.  There’s no record of any Zakuul system on the holonet either.  But searching the _Falcon_ ’s own navigational history recently unlocked shows records of a Zakuul system in the distant past.   Rey spends a few moments cross referencing nearby charted systems to determine the right coordinates.  But even that is a bit iffy.  Still, Rey goes with her gut. It’s all she’s got right now. 

 

This mystery system turns out to be only a short jump away.  It won’t even consume a lot of fuel.  So, Rey punches it and then busies herself showering and donning her best dress.   She pulls her hair back in her usual center part chignon and paints on some lipstick.   Does she look okay?   Nervous Rey aims to please.  She wants to make a good impression.  To be a daughter a man can be proud of. 

 

Occupied with her nervous primping, Rey completely misses the message that returns from Kylo. 

 

_Don’t do this.   It’s too dangerous.  Come home.  Please don’t do this._

 

Instead, oblivious Rey frets.  Should she take her sword?    Or, does that send the wrong message?   Rey comes in peace, but she doesn’t want to act foolishly.  Kylo’s many warnings are forefront in her mind. But how confusing will it look for a yellow-eyed girl to show up with an antique blue Jedi sword?  

 

While she ponders the issue of a sword, the _Falcon_ exits lightspeed.  All too soon, she has arrived at the Zakuul system.   

 

Racing back to the cockpit, Rey begins assessing her destination.  The blue-green swampy planet checks out okay, with a temperate climate and a breathable atmosphere.   But it’s nowhere near as interesting as the giant, metal rhombohedron floating in space beside it.  Is that a space station?   Could it be a ship?  Rey doesn’t see any engines or a point of entry.  It also doesn’t scan for life forms.

 

Well, whatever.  At least it’s non-threatening.  Rey turns back to the strange planet and begins attempting to identify a spaceport or other location to land.   And that’s when Rey feels the _Falcon_ lurch.  It’s like a tractor beam has locked on because suddenly the freighter is being pulled fast towards that strange crystal shaped structure she had pondered earlier.  Alarmed, Rey activates the _Falcon_ ’s forward shields and aft engines, worried about the collision to come.   But it doesn’t seem to help. She is growing more concerned by the second when she loses consciousness and her world abruptly grows dark.

 

Rey wakes unharmed in the cockpit of the _Falcon_.   How long was she out?   Rey has no idea.  But somehow her ship has landed safely.  Is she on the planet?   Did she manage to miss that space station thing entirely?  If so, how?  Rey can’t quite make sense of what has occurred.  But as she peers out the cockpit window, she experiences a chilling sense of de ja vu.

 

She knows this place. 

 

She was here last night.  In a dream. 

 

Her heart is beating rapidly now.  Adrenaline has really kicked in and her senses are on high alert.  There’s no question now:  she’s definitely taking her sword.

 

Her location scans for massive life form readings, a pleasant temperature, and a hospitable atmosphere.  It also scans for a person waiting patiently not far from where the _Falcon_ ’s ramp will deploy.  It’s the cloaked figure of a man.

 

Rey swallows hard.   Is that her father?   She has the sudden urge to fire up the engines and flee, but steels her resolve.  It’s now or never.   She has not come this far and risked so much to turn back now.  Summoning her courage and squaring her shoulders, Rey lowers the _Falcon_ ’s ramp and heads for the exit.  She will meet this fate like she met countless other calculated risks on Jakku:  with steely determination and a valiant hope.  Rey has a firm grip on her sword and her head is held high as she sweeps down from the trashy looking _Falcon_ dressed to the nines like the unofficial Empress she is.

 

The waiting figure wears kingly robes trimmed in gold.  “Young Rey.”  The voice is instantly familiar from their holochron chats.  The man throws back his hood to reveal a distinguished looking man. He has a gently aged face, with a lined forehead that suggests wisdom and crinkles about his eyes that suggest humor.  He’s tall, but not extraordinarily so, with deep set blue eyes that look more astute than kind.  She watches as those eyes linger on her weapon momentarily before they revert back to hers.  The man  is a very impressive figure, but what strikes Rey the most about her host is his full beard and leonine mane of greyish brown hair swept back. 

 

He looks like a Skywalker, she thinks with a gulp.  

 

“Welcome, Daughter.”  He inclines his head.  “I hoped that you would find me.”

 

Trembling Rey just nods in response, for she is uncertain how to react and where to begin.  Part of her wants to throw herself into this dignified stranger’s arms, part of her wants to start demanding answers, and part of her wants to cry with a mix of joy and relief.  Because whoever this man is who claims her as daughter, he is real.   She can feel him as alive as she is in the Force. 

 

As she hesitates, he smiles kindly.  There is pity in his eyes.  “I called you here to help me.  But I see now that you are in need of my help.  I see those eyes.  I know what they mean. Daughter, you are unbalanced.”

 

Yes, terribly so.  “I woke up like this one day,” Rey stammers, reaching up self-consciously to her eyes and feeling ashamed. 

 

He nods patiently.  “You awoke to Darkness, just like you woke up to the Light one day.  I felt your awakening clear across the galaxy here in my prison.  It was a marvelous thing.”   He nods at her with clear approval.  “So much strength.  Such power.  Those eyes were bound to happen, Daughter.   The Force seeks balance in all things, be it the universe or an individual.  But most especially in a child of the Force.”

 

She looks up to him sharply.   Child of the Force??

 

“Come closer,” he beckons her.  But she stands her ground.   Because staring at the lavish gold trim on his garments, Rey suddenly is reminded of Snoke.   

 

Her father continues speaking in his quiet, sagely tone.  “The Light shines forth and Darkness resists against it.  Therein lies the never-ending drama of the universe.  It is inevitable.  Child, your innate goodness is why you wear those yellow eyes.   That is your destiny asserting itself.  That is the Force at work.”

 

Rey is lost in those words.  Fearful too of their meaning.

 

“Closer, I said.”  The man beckons again and Rey is summoned to him with the Force.  He reaches a spindly hand to cup her cheek.  And though it is a gentle gesture, Rey can’t help it.  She flinches at the touch, so unnerved is she.  But her host ignores the reaction.  “Daughter, I can help you,” he promises.  “I will teach you.  I have taught many through the years.  But you will be my greatest achievement.  Oh,” he says with clear relish, “how I have longed for your advent.”

 

Alarmed at what these words might portend, Rey finally finds her voice.  “Who are you?   Why do you call me daughter?” she demands.  “And what is this place?” she adds, casting her eyes around the lush, almost dreamlike environment they stand in.  It’s like a setting for a fairytale, inviting and yet oddly threatening.   As if amidst all this calm beauty there lurks a harsh moral lesson to be learned the hard way.

 

Her father drops his hand and bids her to walk with him, tucking her arm possessively into the crook of his.  It’s a chummy gesture that ought to endear, but doesn’t.  It’s far too soon for that.  Together they process away from the _Falcon_.  “I will answer all of your questions in good time, my dear.  But first, welcome to the realm of Mortis.” Her host makes an expansive gesture of his left arm.  “It exists outside any normal star system.   Time means nothing here.  All that matters is the Force.”  The man’s features have a momentarily forlorn look as he confides, “It is a beautiful, very comfortable but very lonely, prison.”

 

“P-Prison?” Rey echoes with alarm, wondering if she too is now trapped.

 

“Never fear, you may come and go.   Only I am cursed to be captive here.”

 

“You asked to be released,” she recalls aloud.

 

“Yes.  I have been a prisoner for many, many years.  Since long before you were born,” he laments.

 

And Rey wants to ask why he is here and how she can help release him, but first one thought rises above the rest.  Kylo’s skepticism has her suspicious, too.  “Then how can you possibly be my father?” she challenges.

 

His response is a conspiratorial smile.  Rather than take offense, he pats her arm approvingly.  “I do like your spunk, child.  Never let anyone dim your spirit.  It is delightful.”  Rey is feeling a bit patronized until he explains, “After being trapped here so long, I learned to escape my confinement through the Force.  Boredom led me to explore all sort of ideas.”

 

“I don’t understand.”  Rey isn’t following.

 

The man at her side flashes a sly grin. “Luke Skywalker is not the only one who can project himself in the Force.”

 

“Oh,” Rey answers.  And then:  “Oooooooh.”  But wait—how would that work??  Rey has a flash of  memory of her touching hands with Kylo in the Force.  She feels her face flush. 

 

At her side, the stranger smirks.  “His was a novice first attempt that killed him.  Had that sullen fool not cut himself off from the Force for so long, he would have survived it.  Fortunate are you that Skywalker refused to train you as a Jedi.   He would have ruined you like he himself was ruined.”

 

Er . . . how does this guy know that exactly?  Rey’s eyes narrow.  “Who are you?” she demands a second time.

 

Her host ignores the question as he muses.  “Skywalker must have known who you were. It’s why he feared you.  It’s why he sent you away.  Raw power like yours does not occur randomly or naturally. Although, I suppose it takes one to know one, as they say . . . ”

 

“What are you saying?” Rey presses.

 

Her father halts their progress and turns to face Rey head on now.  He looks her in the eye as he reveals, “I’m saying that you are a child of the Force.  You are life created from the Force, unnaturally conceived in your birth mother’s womb as my creation.” 

 

For a second, Rey can’t breathe.   Because is he saying what she thinks he is saying?

 

“Yes.   Search your feeling.  You know it to be true.”  The strange man nods patiently at her mix of confusion and consternation.  “Rey of Jakku, I am your father for all purposes.  You are my creation in the Force.”

 

“Like a Skywalker,” she breathes out, genuinely horrified.

 

“Yes.  Like a Skywalker. Like THE Skywalker.   Like Anakin Skywalker himself.  Before the bloodline diluted.”

 

Rey swallows hard as she begins to process the ramifications of this news.  That is--if it’s even true, of course.

 

“Oh, it’s true,” he chides Rey softly, for he must read the skepticism on her features.  “Rey, you are born of the Force, meaning your talents span the breadth of the Force.  In your soul lies a microcosm of the eternal struggle of the cosmos.  For like a Skywalker, you are born to be conflicted.  Neither wholly Dark nor purely Light.”

 

“But my eyes—” she sputters, reaching up.

 

Her host shrugs.  “Anakin Skywalker had yellow eyes too for a while.  All they signify is that you are unbalanced.  And that is to be expected.  First, you were awakened to the Light Side.  And then, you were awakened to Darkness.  Because you are both.   This is the promise of your bloodline.   You can bring balance.   You are the new Chosen One, Daughter.”

 

Rey can’t quite believe it.  “But I’m just a nobody . . . a nobody from nowhere . . .”

 

“Nonsense.  You are a prophet of the Force.  Hidden in obscurity until the time was right.  Kept safe from those who would use you and ruin you, like Skywalker was ruined.  Welcome home, Princess.  I am so very glad to see you.”  

 

With those words, the man who calls her daughter walks forward to envelop her in a tight hug.  Her past, her purpose, a new teacher, a long-lost and approving quasi-father . . . it’s everything Rey could possibly hope for in a reunion . . . sort of.  She has a lot more questions than answers so far.

 


	32. Chapter 32

Rey left him. 

 

She let him down.

 

But Kylo can’t shake the feeling that he failed her and that’s why she left.  His teaching didn’t help, so she went in search of another teacher.  And that teacher just happened to call her ‘daughter’ and request her help.  Kylo feels expertly outmaneuvered by a Sith Master.   Because this is the kind of move manipulative old Snoke would have played.  

 

In the wake of Rey leaving, Kylo puts on his mask and doesn’t take it off the whole day.   He gives orders left and right and furiously delegates tasks until evening comes.  Then, he summons his closest few aides, boards his shuttle, and heads for Mustafar Castle.   He needs his grandfather’s counsel.  

 

But the melted relic on a plinth yields no insight.  Kylo is deeply disappointed when it fails to provoke a Force vision.   Even Lord Vader seems to have forsaken him now.   And so, miserable Kylo stares hard at the portal to the World Between Worlds as he considers his remaining option.  

 

He doubts there are answers waiting for him there. Usually, those strange alternate reality experiences are a tantalizing, sometimes horrifying, mix of ‘what ifs.’    But anywhere removed from his current circumstances sounds good right now.  Kylo just wants to escape as far as he can from his problems, if only for a little while.  Lesser men would be smoking spice or pounding liquor shots right now.  But he’s a Skywalker, so his vice is the Force. 

 

With a deep breath, Kylo steps through the portal.  

 

He looks around blankly.  It takes a moment for his mind to jog back over a decade to recognize the setting.  He’s standing in his mother’s New Republic Senate office.  At his side, arms crossed as he glowers in silence stands his uncle Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. 

 

As usual, the Skywalker family is fighting.  But for once, it doesn’t seem to be about him.  Kylo is a bystander to what appears to be an ongoing heated argument.

 

“I have a thick skin, Luke, but being called a warmonger gets under it!”  Leia Organa paces while she rants.  It’s sort of classic her.  She’s dressed like a queen with her hair tied up in her trademark coronet of braids.  Her elegant long skirts sweep by as she moves.  Yep, she’s pissed, Kylo judges with an expert eye.   On a scale of 1 to 10, this is about an 8, he figures.

 

“I've seen more war than anyone else in the Senate!  I've lost more to war than anyone in the Republic!”   His mother pulls to a halt, sighs heavily, and drags a hand down her face.  Her outburst is spent.   She leans back against her massive desk to address his uncle.  “What do we do now?”

 

“We must do what we feel is right, of course,” Luke Skywalker answers calmly.   As usual, his uncle is chill.  He’s dressed in formal Jedi robes and acting his most formal Jedi self.  Pulling at his beard like some old wise man.  It’s annoying. 

 

Apparently, his mother agrees.  “What does that mean?” she snaps.  

 

Luke Skywalker fixes his twin with a stern look.  “Leia, I'm not defying the Senate.   The last time the Jedi asserted themselves against the Senate, the Republic fell.  The Order must show respect for civilian authority.”

 

Yep.  Uncle Luke is definitely doing the full Jedi thing.  But his mother has a work around at the ready.  “Oh, you won't be doing it.  You're our Jedi Master.  You can be safely removed from it all.”  His mother turns to him now and points.  “Ben here will do it.”

 

Wait, what?   For the first time, Kylo becomes aware that he too is wearing formal Jedi robes.  He surreptitiously reaches up to finger for the braid.  Nope, no braid.  In this reality, he must have graduated from Padawan to full Knight already.  Good.  But he still has no idea what his mother and his uncle are bickering about.

 

Uncle Luke saves him from having to say something.  He jumps in, “Leia—“

 

His mother overrides his uncle.  She’s getting worked up again.  “We will save the Republic from itself!” she vows.  “From its insular focus and pacifist ways.”

 

“Leia—“

 

“I'd rather fight them now on the edge of the Rim than watch them plunder the galaxy before we intervene.”

 

Luke Skywalker spells it out now.  “The Senate has determined that they are a fringe extremist group that merits monitoring.  But that their activities in our jurisdiction are protected under freedom of speech and freedom of assembly.  No one but you wants to go to war with them.  There is no political appetite for armed conflict right now.  You need to accept that, Leia.”

 

“They have overrun entire systems on the edge of our borders!  Slowing creeping ever closer.  And have you seen the reports of their brutality?”

 

“I have.  But they have shown no aggression towards any Republic world so far.”

 

“So far!” his mother scoffs.  “Luke, there is more to this threat than just a bunch of neo-Imperials lusting to bring back the good old days of the Empire.  They are too well equipped.  Too well trained.  Too organized.  Someone with very deep pockets is funding them.  I ran a Rebellion, remember?  I know all the work that goes into planning and supplying an insurgency like this.”

 

“Intel is looking into that.”

 

“It’s not enough of a priority and you know it,” his mother snaps back.    

 

“Look, the Defense Committee has judged the First Order to be a low priority threat.”

 

The First Order?  This is about the threat of the First Order?  Oh, the irony of this conversation, Kylo thinks.  He’s starting to enjoy himself now.  He crosses his arms to mimic his uncle and gives his best good guy Jedi posturing.

 

“A low priority threat??  If you believe that, then I’ve got some real estate on Alderaan to sell you,” his mother retorts.  Leia Organa is adamant now.  “I did not save this galaxy from our father’s Empire only to watch it fall prey to an even worse menace.” 

 

“You don’t know that—”

 

“Luke, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” his mother warns with grave seriousness.  “And you should, too.”

 

“You know I do,” his uncle quietly informs his twin.  He looks a bit offended now.   “I was in that meeting arguing for more oversight and intel right beside you, Leia.  But I can’t unilaterally act unless the Senate asks me to intervene.  That’s how this works.  The Jedi Order serves the Senate at their behest.  It’s in the constitution that you wrote.”

 

His mother clearly won’t let that limitation bother her.  “Sometimes, you have to bend the rules to keep the rules from breaking,” she declares, sounding ever so slightly Sith in her expediency.

 

“I was afraid you were going to say something like that,” Luke sighs.  He exchanges a meaningful look with Kylo now.

 

His mother is undeterred.  “Ben, you're going.  The Chancellor will agree to a small humanitarian relief mission to the foreign battleground systems.”

 

“Led by a Jedi??” Luke chokes. 

 

“He didn’t say it couldn’t be a Jedi,” she shrugs.

 

“But did you tell him it would be a Jedi?” Luke presses.

 

“Or course, not!” Leia responds.  “It will be led by a Jedi, just not you, Luke.  Ben will be the Light in action.  If anyone notices, we'll call it the Jedi Mercy Corps or something media friendly like that,” she improvises.

 

"And just how well armed are these humanitarian peacekeepers going to be?" Luke Skywalker demands. 

 

“Leave that to me.”

 

“I was afraid you were going to say that.“

 

His mother shoots his uncle a frustrated look.  “Well, if it works—“

 

“You're going to get Ben arrested,” Luke complains. “Or worse.”  His uncle turns to him.  “Are you okay with this?  Because I'm not.”

 

Of course, he’s not.  Luke Skywalker likes things pristine and clear cut.  Moral dilemmas that are not black and white are to be left unresolved in his mindset.  That’s when the Jedi Master hides behind his Light Side dogma or the procedural trappings of the Senate. It’s exactly this attitude that allowed Darth Sidious to creep into power in the Old Republic.   By the time the Jedi Council figured out what was going on, it was too late.  Their last-ditch unilateral action not only failed, it was convincingly portrayed at the time as a coup attempt.  And here’s Luke Skywalker, a generation later, following down that same path again.  Standing there in his Jedi robes, Jedi Knight Ben Solo, the covert Kylo Ren, has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. 

 

“Well, Ben?” Luke prods him for support.  Clearly, in this reality Kylo is his uncle’s yes-man.

 

But Kylo doesn’t get a chance to answer.  “Oh, don't pull that goody two shoes Jedi Master crap,” his mother snaps. “The First Order must be stopped!  Four thousand years ago the Mandalorians tried this same thing.  Ruthless tactics in a creeping, unsolicited war of aggression.  The Jedi bent the rules and saved the Republic then.  Ben will do it again now,” she announces.  And, damn, his mother looks determined.

 

“Just what do you think is going to happen here?” Luke demands of his irate twin.  “Do you think Ben is just going to walk out with a laser sword and take on the whole First Order by himself?”

 

“No.  But he can find out what’s really going on and who’s really in charge so he can report back to the Senate.  Ben will build our case for war.  And since he’s a noncombatant, peacekeeping Jedi Knight, everyone will trust his objective judgement on the matter.”

 

“That’s the point--Ben is a Jedi!” Luke throws up his hands.  “The Force is for defense, not for attack.  Jedi don’t go looking for fights, they seek to stop them.”

 

“That’s not how I remember you in the Rebellion,” his mother slants his uncle some serious side eye as only she can.  Then, she turns to Kylo.   “Take Rey with you.  She's good in a fight.”

 

“Absolutely not!” Uncle Luke finally raises his voice.  And is it his mother’s fait accompli strategy or the mere mention of Rey that sets him off?  Apparently, it’s Rey.  “Those two don't need any more alone time together,” Luke huffs.  

 

“What?”  His mother blinks at the remark, but Leia Organa is never slow on the uptake.  “Ben?” She looks amused.  “You and Rey?”  His mother raises her eyebrows suggestively and her bright brown eyes have an unholy gleam.

 

“He's a Jedi and she’s a Jedi.” Uncle Luke glares at his mother and then at him.  “There is no Ben and Rey.”

 

“You and Rey??”  His mother is actually giggling.  Well, maybe it’s snorting.  Kylo is instantly uncomfortable.  This is awful.  Just awful.

 

“My nephew’s thoughts betray him,” Luke says dryly, shooting him another look.  And now, Kylo can feel his face flaming.   Truly, there is nothing more awkward than having his mother and his uncle talk euphemistically about romance in front of him.  Yuck.  Snoke’s Force lightning is more fun than this. 

 

Leia Organa gives a throaty laugh now.  She flashes his celibate priest uncle a worldly look.   “Well, who can blame him?  Rey is adorable.”

 

“Leia—“

 

“Breaking Jedi vows is sort of a family tradition, no?”

 

“Leia—"

 

“So, it's settled.  Ben will do it.”

 

Kylo speaks up for the first time.  He’s no fool.  “Only if I can take Rey.”

 

His mother shrugs and gives him a conspiratorial look.  “Fine by me.”

 

“Look, it’s more than their inappropriate flirting,” Luke complains testily, shooting his twin a quelling look.  “Rey is aggressive.”

 

His mother smirks.  “She's my kind of girl.”

 

“She has a big Dark streak,” his uncle warns. 

 

“So do you,” Leia Organa points out. 

 

“She also has issues with authority.”

 

“So do I,” his mother admits, “This conversation pretty well illustrates that point.  But no one's perfect.  Not even you, Luke.”

 

“Look, Ben can decide for himself what to do,” Luke relents. “But I don’t want my Padawan arrested along with him.”

 

Leia Organa makes a face and starts up again with her ranting.  “Look, we're not kids playing at being revolutionaries anymore!  We're the grey-haired grownups who are supposed to be making the hard choices.  We are supposed to be the responsible ones.”

 

“I am being responsible.”  Luke Skywalker clearly does not appreciate being lectured to.  The Jedi Master prefers to give the lectures himself, Kylo remembers well from his youth.  “You're going to get Ben killed.”

 

“Oh, don't kid yourself!” Leia Organa hisses.  “If the First Order gets here, you, me, and Ben will be first on their kill list.  You because you brought down the Emperor and Vader.  Me because I ran the Rebellion.  And Ben because he’s the future of the Jedi.  Do not underestimate them!  Those crazies will cheerfully murder every Skywalker they can get their hands on.”

 

“I know,” Luke agrees.  His mother and uncle are back at it again.  She’s making loud, angry arguments and he’s countering with maddeningly cool logic.  “That's why I'm worried about Ben.  We have no idea what he’ll be walking into.”

 

“He’s years older than you were when you confronted Palpatine and Vader on your own.”

 

“I’m not talking about how old he is—“

 

“Sorry, I’m late.”  Rey walks in now.  It interrupts the conversation.  Ben does a double take which makes his mother grin and his uncle frown.  But Kylo can’t help it because look at Rey the Republic Jedi.  With her formal cloak and a saber bouncing at her waist but those goofy hair knots and leather arm wraps that harken back to Jakku.  Kylo can’t take his eyes off her.  Oh, how he has missed her.   If he could, he would take her in his arms and kiss her breathless now.

 

“I got held up at security,” Rey mumbles out her excuse.  “Master, what is this about?”

 

“Treason,” Luke answers bluntly as Leia Organa rolls her eyes.  She’s very good at that.

 

Rey looks to his mother with concern.  “Senator?”

 

“He’s being dramatic.”  And now, Leia Organa is a bit dramatic herself.  “Rey, I want you and Ben to save the Republic.  Luke and I are getting too old for this sort of thing.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” his uncle grouses. 

 

But Rey answers simply:  “Okay.”   She looks to Kylo.  “Ben, are you in?”

 

He can’t tell her no. Especially when she calls him Ben and looks at him with near hero worship in her eyes.  “Sure,” he responds automatically as he stares back. 

 

Beside him, Uncle Luke scowls. 

 

His mother beams.  “Good.  That’s done.”

 

Rey nods as she commits, “Senator, you can count on us.  We will do what must be done.” 

 

Atta girl.  Looking on, Kylo recognizes the Resistance girl he originally fell for.  The girl with strong, certain convictions.  She’s all-in, with none of the Jedi Order’s scruples and equivocation.   All her instinctive moral authority has charisma.   It drew him in from the beginning.  Seeing it again now, Kylo realizes how diminished Rey had been when she turned Dark in his reality.  How he wishes he had been able to help her more.  Maybe then, she wouldn’t have left him.

 

Jedi Rey now smiles over at grumpy Luke.  “Master, will you brief us on the mission?”

 

“No,” the Jedi Master responds flatly.  “I want no part of this.  He’s in charge,” his uncle instructs, gesturing to Kylo.  Then Luke turns to Leia Organa and warns, “This is not going to go the way you think.”

 

“It will be fine,” his mother counters.  “Ben is as dependable and responsible as they come.  He won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

 

Kylo blinks at this description of himself.

 

“When do we leave?” Rey asks, looking from her Jedi Master to the Senator.

 

“Now,” his mother answers.  “Take the _Falcon_ ,” she offers.

 

Luke Skywalker shoots Kylo a stern look. “Remember your calling.”  Then, he turns to Rey.  “Don’t do anything foolish, Padawan.  Remember your prior failure and make amends.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Rey nods demurely as she flushes.  And what the Hell was that comment about?

 

“Hey, yeah . . . well, may the Force be with you, too,” Leia Organa jeers loudly after her fast retreating brother.  It’s a little obnoxious but that’s his mother. 

 

Twenty minutes later, Kylo is in the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon_ alone with Rey as she goes through the pre-flight checks.  She’s in the pilot seat, but Kylo doesn’t object.  “Everything looks good and we’re fully fueled.  We can stop to buy food and other supplies along the way.  They’ll be cheaper in the Rim.”

 

“Fine by me,” Kylo smiles.  He’s enjoying just being around Jedi Rey.  “Let’s go.”

 

Rey expertly pilots the _Falcon_ just like he knew she would.  Soon, they are orbiting Coruscant waiting for their turn to enter the crowded local hyperspace lane to make the jump to the Rim.  When it’s their turn, Rey reaches and pulls the lever down.  The _Falcon_ shudders as the inky black of space morphs into the undulating blue waves of lightspeed.

 

“That never gets old,” Rey whispers softly as she stares out the cockpit window at the marvels of interstellar physics.  She’s still holding onto the hyperspace lever.

 

And that’s his cue.  “No, it doesn’t.”  Kylo reaches over from the co-pilot seat to cover her hand with his.

 

“Ben.”   Rey immediately snatches her hand away.  “Please don’t.”  She looks down and away.

 

“Rey—“  He just tried to touch her hand.  That’s all.  Why is she so jumpy?

 

“I told Master Luke,” Rey yelps out nervously.

 

Er . . .  told Master Luke what?

 

“I’m sorry.”  She is stammering out her words now.  “I know I told you I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t keep it from him.  He’s my Master,” Rey awkwardly explains.  “It felt wrong keeping secrets.”

 

“Oh.” What exactly did she tell Luke?

 

A long uncomfortable silence falls between them.  Then, Rey blurts out, “I am haunted by the kiss I should never have given you.   That was a mistake . . . a big mistake.  I’m sorry.  I know I told you that before, but I really mean it.  I’m sorry, Ben.  I don’t know what came over me . . . I’ll try to be a better Jedi in the future . . .”

 

Oh shit.  This is not good.  Or, well, maybe it’s good.  Kylo isn’t sure.

 

“What did Luke say?”  He tries to play it cool. 

 

“That we have both made a commitment to the Jedi Order.  And that I need to work on controlling my emotions.”

 

Yep, that sounds like Uncle Luke.  Now, Kylo better understands his uncle’s reaction in his mother’s office.

 

Rey keeps talking now, relaying what was no doubt one of Jedi Master Skywalker’s finest lectures.  “He said that lust is selfish.  That a kiss leads to s-sex,” she stumbles over the word, “and s-sex leads to attachment, and attachment leads to jealousy.  Luke said that jealousy is the shadow of greed.   It’s . . . “ Rey pauses dramatically before she whispers, “the Dark Side.”

 

Kylo sighs.  He remembers all that ridiculous dogma.  Fearmongering about the Force is so typically Jedi. “Luke is wrong,” he asserts. 

 

“W-What?” Rey is flabbergasted. 

 

Clearly, he’s speaking heresy now, but Kylo is undeterred.  “Attachment is love.  And love is not wrong.”  Love is good.  Love is necessary.  Love is human.  And to live without love is very, very hard.  Kylo knows from experience.  And, in another reality, Rey knows this lesson, too.

 

But unquestioning Jedi Rey blinks at him in confusion.  “But we’re Jedi.   Attachment is forbidden.”

 

“Repressing your emotions is wrong, too.”  Kylo keeps going with his blasphemy.  Rey needs to hear this, whether she believes it or not.

 

“But too much emotion can lead you to connect to the Force with emotion.  And that is Dark,” she warns, quoting him standard Light Side teaching.  As a Jedi, you’re supposed to search your feelings, but not actually heed them. 

 

“It doesn’t matter how you connect with the Force.  Do what feels easiest for you.”  And now, Kylo adds an insight that he has been considering ever since back in his own reality Rey woke up with yellow eyes and he started dabbling in holochrons:  “The Force is the Force.   The emotions you use to connect with the Force can be Dark or Light, but the Force itself is neutral. It’s not good or bad, it just is.   Whether Dark or Light, it’s all a lot more similar than you think.”   Kylo should know—he’s been both.   

 

Moreover, he has discovered when fooling around with Force healing that he can accomplish the same task whether he reaches for the Force with calm or through emotion.  Either way gets the job done.  It makes him wonder whether it’s less how you connect with the Force and more how you use it.  The almost clinical detachment the Jedi require certainly removes the risk of using the Force in anger.   But it also prohibits use of the Force in love.  And that seems wrong.  More and more, Kylo is starting to reject his teaching.   Trying to help his version of Rey has sent him on a quest for knowledge that has him discarding all the rules of Dark and Light.  They didn’t help him much as a conflicted Chosen One, and they don’t seem to be helping Rey either.  

 

Why is he telling Jedi Rey this now?  Because Kylo wishes that he would have shared this view with his own Rey.  She had been drowning in a spiral of self-destruction and negativity.  Perhaps had she felt more empowered to take hold of her circumstances, she might have clawed her way back to an equilibrium.  And then, maybe she would have stayed.  

 

“Does Luke know you think like this?” scandalized Jedi Rey asks.   She’s so young, he sees, so accepting and eager to please.   This Padawan hasn’t yet been confronted with challenges that force her to reconsider her perspective.   Unlike his yellow eyed, haunted Rey back home who has had to face her worst fear of turning Dark.  There is meaning in that struggle, he’s sure of it.  Just like there is meaning in his own conflicted nature.   Kylo just wishes his version of Rey had hung around so that they might discover it together.  But now, she has left him and fled headlong into danger, foolishly thinking she will find help.  

 

“Well . . . does he?” Jedi Rey prompts again to break his reverie.   She has jumped to her feet and is looming over him.  

 

“No,” Kylo guesses.  “Not yet.”   Everyone treats Ben Solo like a good Jedi in this reality, so Kylo suspects not.  “Rey,” he stands to his feet now too, “be open to new ideas.  Be open to love.”   It’s the best advice he can give her for what lies ahead.  

 

Rey nods, staring up at him.  “What is it with you?” she whispers aloud.  “You’re—you’re—you’re not like anyone else,” she finishes awkwardly.  

 

Kylo resists the urge to kiss her.  Instead, he smiles.  “You’re not like anyone else either,” he parrots her words in what can only be considered laughably stilted Jedi flirting.  It’s comforting though.  Because no matter what World Between Worlds reality he ends up in, Rey is a constant fixture.   Their connection transcends the boundaries of time and space, it seems.  No matter what life and the Force throw at them, they are still a thing.   And that confirms what Kylo has long believed:   that he and Rey are destiny.  

 

Jedi Rey looks spooked now.  She excuses herself to check on some mechanics in the back.  It’s a pretext and they both know it, but Kylo plays along. She leaves and he is alone in the cockpit.  

 

And how is he going to get back through the portal to his own reality now?  Maybe he should have thought about that before he blasted off in the _Falcon_.  But the Force must think he’s done enough damage in this reality, because Kylo looks to his left and suddenly there in the corner of the cockpit is a shimmering exit back to his own life.  Kylo takes the hint, of course.  You don’t piss off the Force.  But first, he sends a message to his mother telling her to stay off Hosnia for the time being for her own safety.  He doesn’t explain why.  

 

Back in his own reality, glum Kylo finds a message from Rey.  She has indeed set off to find the man who purports to be her father.   The worst part is her closing line telling him that she loves him.  It feels like a lie in the context, or maybe even sly manipulation.  Rey withholds her love until now when she’s left him.  Even if it’s true, it just confuses the issues further.  Rather than appease him, it makes him even more mad. 

 

Kylo sends back a pleading message to reconsider.  His reply is a triumph of self-control since he has to resist the strong urge to berate Rey for her betrayal.  It’s not too late to reconsider, he argues instead.  But apparently, he is unpersuasive.  He never hears anything further from his wife.  And that stings.  It really stings.  Suddenly, he feels like a chump for loving her.


	33. Chapter 33

“You are the new Chosen One, Daughter.” 

 

The words are a shock, as is the abrupt, enthusiastic hug that accompanies them.  Rey stands there stiffly processing what she has heard.  She is struggling to understand as she pulls back to ask blankly, “I’m a S-Skywalker?”

 

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.  Anakin Skywalker was my first creation in the Force.  You are my second attempt.”  The crinkles at the corners of her father’s eyes show as he explains, “You were my back-up plan when the first effort seemingly went awry.” 

 

Is he joking?  Rey can’t tell.  Maybe it’s the beard, but this man’s countenance is very enigmatic.  His grave but oddly chatty demeanor equally so as well.

 

“Oh.”  Rey gulps as she reflexively looks down at Leia Organa’s ring she wears on her left hand.   It’s her only piece of jewelry, so she had worn it to impress.  But it’s also a love token and a family heirloom that now takes on a very uncomfortable meaning.  “Oh, no,” she whispers.   Because if Kylo’s great-grandfather in the Force is her father in the Force, then what does that make her and Kylo?  Is she some sort of aunt?   Or cousin?  Oh, geez.   This is bad . . . this is really bad . . .    Of all the concerns she had about loving Kylo, incest never even made the list.

 

Does her father sense her concern?   “Never fear,” he soothes with a wry smile.  “There is no blood relation between you and the Skywalkers.  The connection is only through me in the Force.  And since all beings are created in the Force, you are no more related than anyone else.”

 

Maybe so, but Rey still finds it uncomfortable. She thinks back now on all the information that Kylo and General Leia each shared about their family lore.  “Darth Vader was supposedly created by the Sith,” Rey recalls aloud slowly.   “By Darth Sidious and his Master in some creepy Dark ritual that backfired.  The Force struck back at them by creating the Chosen One to destroy the Sith.  It was punishment for daring to manipulate things.”

 

“Yes and no,” her father answers.  “Anakin Skywalker was created by me with Sidious watching.  It was quite intentional, I assure you.  The Force was with us that day, for certain.”

 

Rey looks up sharply.  “So, you are that Dark Master?  You are Sith?”  It’s what she and Kylo have both suspected, and now she asks directly.

 

But his response is cryptic.  “These days, I am neither Sith nor Jedi. I am much more.” Her father now launches into a long answer.  It’s the first of many complicated explanations Rey will hear from him.  Getting a straight answer is no easy task.  

 

Her father resumes walking now.  Rey follows along to hear the tale unfold.   “I was born and raised a Sith in the time of the Old Sith Empire.   Back when the title Dark Lord meant something.  Back when war was a vocation and a sword was something a man had to earn.  But that was many, many years ago.  I have since abandoned that ideology.  Bane ruined the Sith.   It was all downhill after his reforms. A great and vibrant culture was reduced to a few men in hoods skulking around in secret.   It was an insult to the proud tradition of our forebearers.  The Sith of yore were more than an obsession to topple the Republic.  Much more.”

 

Rey has no idea who Bane is, but she doesn’t interrupt to ask. 

 

“I conquered the Republic.  Four times,” he boasts.  “It really isn't that hard.  Over the years, I have learned that there is little challenge in conquest.   The real trick is in governing.  It is far harder to hold on to power than it is to seize it.  Like it is more difficult to create than it is to destroy.”  He flashes a sly grin her direction.  “The destruction is more exciting, though,” he admits.  “A little revolution now and then is a good thing,” he proclaims.

 

“You did that all from here as a projection?” Rey marvels.

 

“The last two times, yes,” her father confirms.  “Daughter, over the years, I have been all things in the Force.  Curiosity and boredom led me to explore the great mystery from all its angles.   I spent time in several Force cults, including multiple stints in the Jedi Order.”  He smirks, thinking back.  “I was a lousy Jedi, but I wished to learn the wisdom of the Light, so I submitted to their rules.”

 

“But you were Darth Sidious’ Sith Master?” Rey wants to confirm she has that part right at least.  

 

“Yes.  Back then, I was known as Darth Plagueis the Wise.  I was a Muun in that disguise.  And a very ugly one at that.”

 

“But from here?  As a projection?”

 

“Yes.   I needed the diversion trapped here for thousands of years.   I long ago vowed to never stop searching for the great truths of the universe.  I refuse to let my confinement limit me.”  It sounds so noble when he puts it that way, Rey thinks.  But it belies the evil he has unleashed on the galaxy.  He chuckles now as he confides, “I outsmarted my captors in the end.  My body may be confined, but my power is not.  It has grown and grown through the years.”

 

“As Lord Plagueis and Lord Sidious, Sheev Palpatine and I plotted an Empire together.  My third Empire, actually.   Sheev completed his training by killing me off, and then I faded into the background to watch things unfold.”

 

“But he killed a projection?”  Rey still can’t wrap her head around that idea.

 

“Yes.”  Her father looks tickled as he reveals, “On the night Sheev was elected Chancellor, he hacked my projection to death while I sat safely here.”

 

“Did he know?” Rey asks.

 

“Oh, he suspected that I survived, but he never understood that I was a projection.  Sheev knew that I had discovered the secrets of life and death.  He spent years looking over his shoulder for me to pop up alive again.”  The nonchalance with which he tells the tale draws Rey in.  She’s a bit dumbfounded by what she’s hearing.  But hanging on every word, too.  “I may have encouraged his paranoia from time to time,” her father admits somewhat deviously.  “I got bored,” he shrugs.  “And Sheev angered me with his treatment of Anakin.”

 

“So, who are you really?” Rey still isn’t sure.  

 

Again, she gets a complicated answer.  “I am the hero with a thousand faces, or the villain, if that’s your point of view.  I have been a pauper and a prince, a Jedi and Sith, an Emperor and an insurgent.  I have tried on different philosophies and creeds, I have created public personas of various eccentricities and species.  So, you see, I am many people.  Take your pick,” he invites almost impishly.  It’s bizarre.

 

“Who are you?” Rey repeats stubbornly, unwilling to accept his obfuscation.

 

And this time, she gets an answer.  “I was born Carl Veradun over five thousand standard years ago, the natural son of a Sith Lord.  He ignored me, favoring his legitimate offspring.  That ended when I killed him and my half-brother, and claimed his power for my own.  I served the reigning Dark Lord Ragnos back then until I ascended to become the Dark Lord myself.  I ruled the Sith Empire for a time until I grew restless.  I’m afraid that I am easily bored,” he adds apologetically.   “It is both a blessing and a curse.”

 

“You weren’t just a Sith.  You were the Sith Emperor,” Rey repeats.  Wow.  This guy is old.   Ancient old. Whoever she expected her father to be, this sure wasn’t it. 

 

“Darth Vitiate was my name in that life.  After that, I ruled the Eternal Empire on Zakuul.  I was Valkorion then.  Back in those days, my primary goal was immortality through the Force.  At first, I would consume host bodies as a crutch.   It became unnecessary.  I ultimately discovered the secret to immortality long before I became trapped in time here.   Unlimited life has its advantages, I have learned, but it has its disadvantages as well.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey doesn’t know what to say to that remark.

 

He smiles indulgently her direction as they continue to walk.  “All things are possible in the Force, Daughter.  Through the Force, I can create life, sustain life, extend life, and destroy life.  I can even raise the dead in certain circumstances.”  

 

Rey swallows hard.   Those ought to be outlandish claims, but something tells her they are not.  And that is deeply troubling.  Because this guy sounds less like a leftover Sith Lord and more like a god of the Force.  “And my m-mother?” she stammers, almost afraid to ask.  

 

“Her name was Tara.  She was a wretched woman with a kind heart.  She saw the best in her spice addicted, liquor-soaked loser boyfriend. He treated her terribly, as I recall.”  Her host thinks a moment before he resumes.  “In the end, he killed her for her suspected infidelity.   Over time, the boyfriend figured out you were not his.  After he killed her, he wanted rid of you.  He sold you off for drinking money, got drunk and belligerent, and was killed in a fight.  He died on Jakku that very night.  It was fitting.”

 

“Oh,” Rey responds softly.  She deflates.  “So, I really was abandoned . . .”

 

“Yes,” her father confirms.  “But not by me.”  He stops again to look her in the eye as he reveals, “I am sorry, Rey.  At the time, I did not know that you existed.   You had not yet had your awakening in the Force.  I would have found a way to rescue you had I known you were alive.  No daughter of mine should grow up as you did.”

 

Rey says nothing.   She just blinks fast. 

 

“By the time I learned of your existence, it was too late to change things.   Rey, my biological children are all long gone.   I fear I failed to appreciate them during their lives.  Back then, I was consumed with the quest for power.  I wanted more, ever more.   And rather than take pride in my children’s accomplishments, I worried that they would become rivals.   I have since learned my lesson.”

 

Rey says nothing.  She simply nods in increasingly disappointed bewilderment.

 

“You don’t look a thing like your birth mother,” he reveals.  “I made you in the image of another woman.  A woman I once loved.  As it turns out, the resemblance is strong.”  He looks Rey over thoughtfully now, a wistful cast to his face.  “Yes, you are every bit the beauty she was.  Only her beauty was soft from a life of leisure.  She had none of your grit, Daughter.  She was an aristocrat, not a peasant.”

 

“Anakin resembled me,” he discloses casually.  “It was vanity, I concede.  But the hubris of the creator role got to me.   I wanted the Chosen One to be made in the image and likeness of me.”

 

“Who is this woman you loved?” Rey wants to know more.

 

“She was a Sith noblewoman. Another man’s wife.  He relinquished her to me, but she never could be persuaded to break with him.  It was . . . dispiriting.”  

 

Something tells Rey that this story doesn’t end well, but she asks anyway.  “What happened to her?”

 

Even all these centuries later, her father is apparently still miffed.  He shakes his head and glowers.  “I never understood what she saw in him.   He was a second rate Sith at best.   So unworthy by comparison.”

 

“What happened to her?” Rey presses.

 

“She’s dead.” 

 

“How?”

 

“I killed her.  To kill what you love was very Sith and very stupid.   She was the first of many mistakes I made,” he admits.  

 

“Oh.”

 

“I met Anakin Skywalker once,” her father reveals offhand.   “Our paths crossed unexpectedly, and I called him here with his Jedi friends.  I tried to illustrate his destiny for him.  To teach him what he was capable of.   I worried that he would squander his potential and, in time, unfortunately that did come to pass.  My Anakin never balanced the Force.  Sheev let me down.  It was a great disappointment to me.” 

 

When Rey remains silent, he continues.  “Anakin’s son Luke completely misunderstood balance.  Eradicating the Sith did not promote balance, it impeded it.  But that fool believed the lies of the Jedi.   He even began a training temple to teach them.  That was when I created you, Rey.  I feared that the Skywalker bloodline would never achieve its potential.  I needed a Plan B.”

 

“But then Ben Solo destroyed the temple,” Rey knows this history.

 

“Yes.  Skywalker ultimately realized his mistake.  But it was too late.  The task of balancing the Force fell to Anakin’s grandson then.”

 

“To Kylo Ren.”

 

“Yes.  His mother might have done it, but she was afraid of the Force.  Leia Organa was horrified to be born the daughter of Darth Vader.  She mostly sought to ignore her talents.”  Her father shakes his head in stern reproof.  “Foolish woman.  She had great unrealized potential.  She never grew beyond the revolutionary leanings of her youth.”

 

“Kylo Ren,” Rey repeats softly as a sneaking suspicion dawns.  “The task fell to Kylo Ren.  Your g-great grandson,” she stumbles over the uncomfortable words. 

 

“Yes.  I took him from Skywalker to complete his training.  To teach that young Jedi Darkness so that he would have the full set of tools to fulfill his destiny.  In time, once he completed his training, I faded into the background to watch.”

 

“Snoke!   Oh, Gods, you’re Snoke!” Rey accuses, physically leaping back.  “You’re Snoke, aren’t you?” she demands in complete horror. 

 

He inclines his head and smiles as he confirms, “Yes.”

 

“But you were going to kill me!” Rey rages.  She was on her knees held fast in the Force by this man while he ordered her execution.

 

“No, no,” he brushes away her concern.  “Daughter, I would not have harmed you.  I would not have let Kylo Ren kill you.  But there was never any chance that he would.  I made sure of that when I bridged your minds.”

 

Rey gapes at him, not knowing what to believe and feeling increasingly threatened.  Because as outlandish as this all sounds, it also seems true.  Preposterous, but true.  And that is terribly disappointing.  Her long-lost father—or creator, rather—is an evildoer of historic proportions.  This man built Starkiller Base and actually used it.

 

Her ‘fight or flight’ impulse kicks in now as Rey’s eyes dart back towards the _Falcon_.  Snoke has done nothing aggressive so far, but that is little consolation.  Rey is thoroughly intimidated.  She recalls just how overpowering Snoke had been as a projection. How outclassed must she be now by Snoke standing next to her in person?   It makes her afraid.   Very afraid.  Rey starts to sweat.

 

Her father is conciliatory now.  All smooth words and cordial smiles.  “Daughter, you don’t know how pleased I was to discover that you lived.  Your awakening filled me with such hope. And then my Apprentice found you and was instantly smitten.  It was almost too good to be true.   All my plans were coming to fruition, just not in the way I had planned.  Anakin’s grandson and my daughter, two Chosen Ones incredibly strong, were drawn together.  At long last, the prophecy will be fulfilled and the Force will be balanced.”

 

“No, no,” Rey groans. “This is impossible.”   

 

“Search your feelings.  You know it to be true,” Snoke chides patiently.

 

And, he’s right.  This can’t be true.  But it is.   Rey can feel the truth in his words.   That her much longed for reunion has turned into this frightening revelation makes Rey heartsick.  This is far worse than what Kylo had warned about.  Her father is a monster for the ages.

 

“But I s-saw you die!  You were c-cut in half!” she stammers.  She’s still struggling to understand how this Force projection concept works.  Rey never actually saw Luke Skywalker on Crait. 

 

“Did you see the tongue?” Snoke flashes a wicked grin, like a little boy who’s a practical joker.  “The tongue sticking out was the best part. Eyes wide open, body cleaved in two, and tongue sticking out.  Dead, right?  But, no!  You saw me die but you did not feel me die.   Take a lesson there, Daughter.  If I ever expire, you will know it.  The giant vortex of Force returning to Force will be unmistakable.  It will put that little blip Sheev made falling down the reactor shaft to shame.”

 

“Like Luke.”  She remembers feeling Luke Skywalker die in the Force from halfway across the galaxy.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And like General Leia.”  Her quiet, peaceful passing had moved Rey deeply.  The sensation had indeed been unmistakable.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh, Gods, you didn’t die, did you?” Rey realizes with absolute certainty.  Because as thrilling as the moment had been when Kylo had saved her from her own execution, Rey doesn’t remember sensing anything unusual in the Force.

 

Her father shrugs as he grins mischievously.  “Snoke was a projection.   He couldn’t die.  He was never alive in the first place.”

 

Rey sees now that she and Kylo had been shadowboxing the whole time in the throne room with this phantom menace.  That line about Kylo killing his true enemy was just Snoke laughing at him.  Because Snoke couldn’t be killed in the throne room.  He was never even present.

 

“But if you’re Snoke, then why were you searching the Unknown Regions just like Palpatine was?  We found the observatories.”  How does that make sense?

 

“I was hoping to discover where this place is located,” Snoke answers.  “So I could lead the Chosen One to me more easily.”

 

“Why?” Rey spits out now angrily.  “Why the obsession with creating Chosen Ones?  Why do you need to balance the Force?”  This man has to have an angle on his efforts.  He clearly does nothing that’s not to his own advantage.

 

“It is the ultimate challenge,” Snoke points out with a detached, almost clinical assessment.  “Balance is the only thing I haven’t done in the Force,” he brags.  “But I have selfish motivations.  Only a Force-user who can balance the Force can release me from this prison.”

 

“Riiiight.”  Of course.  Rey now understands why she is here.  Why she has been lured and what this man wants from her.  She is the key to releasing him.

 

“An unholy alliance of a Jedi Grandmaster and a Sith Lord successfully penned me up,” her father sniffs.  “They couldn’t kill me, so they concocted this arrangement instead.   It was quite unprecedented for the time.  But what they say is true:  the enemy of your enemy truly is your friend.”

 

“Why?” Rey interrupts.  “Why are you in prison?”  And maybe it’s a stupid question.  Because why would you want some guy like this on the loose?

 

“The Jedi feared my growing power.  The practitioners of the Light were all about control back then.  And the Sith simply wanted me out of the way.  Kill and replace had become the way of the Shadow Force.  When my Apprentice finally understood that he couldn’t kill me, he locked me up instead.”  Snoke gestures about them to his placid, picturesque realm.  “Here I have languished thousands of years waiting for the impossible to be achieved.  For the advent of the mythical Chosen One who will balance the Force.”  He flashes a wry smile.  “At the time, it was a promise that most Jedi scholars considered more rumor than prophecy.”

 

“And you grew tired of waiting, so you created a Chosen One for yourself,” Rey surmises. 

 

Her father counters, “I prefer to believe that my role is ordained by the Force itself.  That I would not be allowed to wield this power were I not intended to use it.  The time has come for the Force to be understood differently.  And for me to re-emerge.  The Force is with us, Daughter, otherwise you would not be here.”

 

There is no ‘us’ as far as she’s concerned.  “I shouldn’t have come,” miserable Rey thinks aloud.  “Kylo warned me not to come.”  She feels duped and manipulated.  Like a childish fool.

 

“Nonsense. It was time for you to know the truth. And you need my help as much as I need yours.   We are family.  We ought to help one another.  Let us not repeat the mistakes of the Skywalkers, fighting amongst ourselves.  We are strongest together,” Snoke intones, sounding very much like Kylo.  “You, me, and Kylo Ren are family.”

 

It’s a jaw dropping secret revealed.  But Rey now wishes that she did not know the truth.  This is so disappointing.  Better to believe her father to be a callous deadbeat drunk than to know that he is the mastermind behind countless wars spanning millennia.  And not for any particular cause.  But because he wanted power.  Or because he was bored.

 

“Kylo can already use the Light and the Dark,” Rey perhaps foolishly reveals now.  “He’s studying Jedi holochrons.  I’ve seen him heal with a touch.”

 

“Good.  Goood,” her father approves.  “His power is deepening.  That boy has always shown great promise.  His conflict is considerable, and that speaks well for him.  Perhaps soon he will arrive for my liberation.”

 

“He won’t come,” Rey says with certainty.  Kylo Ren won’t come within lightyears of this guy.  He’s too worried he will lose his Empire.  Thinking of Kylo’s new Death Star, she adds, “If he does come, it won’t be to release you.  It will be to kill you.”

 

“He can’t kill me.”

 

“He might try.”

 

“He already has,” her father jokes with a smile.  “Remember?  You were there.  And, oh, what a scene it was!  You were so valiant as the sacrifice.  He was so torn and befuddled by his nascent love.”

 

“Kylo will never release you,” Rey repeats firmly. 

 

“Oh, he shall, Daughter,” her father reveals with utmost confidence.  “I have foreseen it.  Now, come, my dear.  Let us see to those eyes.  I can help you.”

 

“I won’t be your Apprentice!” Rey retorts as she stands her ground.  Her eyes again wander back towards the _Falcon_.  Dare she risk making a run for it?

 

“Now, now, let’s not get off to a bad start,” Snoke soothes.  “I have no need of an Apprentice.  Kylo Ren is my Apprentice and he’s doing a fine job.  Rey, you are my Daughter.  I am obliged to care for you and to help you.  Let me teach you to control your fears and push back your Darkness.  Balance begins within, Child.  You have much to learn before you can fulfill your destiny as a Chosen One.”

 

“I won’t be the one to free you, Snoke,” Rey vows grimly.

 

“My dear, you must call me Father.  Snoke was a name I had for a pet dog when I was a child.  It amused me to use it as a pseudonym when I conquered the galaxy this time around.”  Yes, yet again, this man was laughing at everyone, Rey sees.  He’s the secret puppeteer pulling the strings of fate from his catbird seat in the Unknown Regions.  Unfindable.  Unkillable.  Unbeatable.  “Now, let us get better acquainted.”  Snoke again tucks Rey’s arm into the crook of his and begins to stroll. 

 

Reluctant and fearful, she keeps pace.


	34. Chapter 34

For a certain sort of person, achievement breeds dissatisfaction.  Because inevitably a goal achieved leads to yet another goal.   Or a milestone reached engenders a sense of letdown in the long term.  ‘What’s next?’ is the mantra of these restless types.   Except, of course, for those few who achieve it all.   And then, the problem becomes coping with the reality of the situation.  Because when you’re at the top, all you can go is down. 

 

That is the predicament of Kylo Ren.   He is the Supreme Leader of the First Order who restored the Empire. He rules the galaxy unopposed.  And yet, he is far less secure in his current role than he was as Snoke’s Apprentice a few short years ago.  Everywhere he looks, there are men competing to usurp him. Including probably Rey’s supposed father hiding in wild space.  The free media hates him and the Core World intelligentsia openly mock him.  Both his detractors and his so-called supporters seem to agree that he’s a loose cannon not up to the task of governing.  He’s feared, but not respected.  Reduced to placating the deep state factions of the First Order that he ought to command.  And even then, his efforts are only marginally successful.  He greenlighted that new Death Star 4 project just last week and somehow Hux has managed to take most of the credit for it. 

 

It all gets him down.

 

None of this is turning out like Kylo had hoped.  It’s all a lot harder and less satisfying than he imagined. It was supposed to make him happy, but he’s more miserable than ever. More alone than ever, too.   It’s like everything he wants ultimately evades him because when he gets it, it’s not what he had envisioned.  He somehow managed to marry Rey and look how that turned out?  Never in his wildest dreams would Kylo have contemplated things would end up like this.  With Rey drowning in Darkness and foolishly running away to find some voice in her head. 

 

It’s discouraging.   

 

Maybe he should let the adversity roll off his back.  Because what the Hell?   He’s still the one in charge.  But the problem is that Kylo doesn’t work that way.  He’s not a go-with-the-flow, laid back personality.  He can’t ignore the problems and the haters because he cares too much.   The truth is that Kylo is a serious person who worries about serious, weighty issues.   About the Force.  About his legacy.  About the future of the galaxy. He’s a Skywalker, after all.  His clan has long been characterized by their big ambitions and crusading ethos.  If they didn’t care, they would never have gotten involved in the first place.  No Skywalker ever has been content to sit on the sidelines for long.  And so, shrugging off criticism and shirking responsibility is not in Kylo’s nature.   Quite the opposite, in fact. 

 

He’s very touchy these days, especially about Rey.  So when the first month of her absence passes and Hux presents himself to inquire about her whereabouts, Kylo loses his cool.  Hux has already sent several messages asking after Rey that Kylo has ignored.  And now, the very predictable Chancellor appears to ask in person. 

 

“Supreme Leader, where is the Senator-at-Large for the Rim Worlds?”   They are in the throne room before witnesses, so Hux phrases it with formal politeness and omits use of Rey’s name.  But no doubt everyone’s ears have just perked up since the love triangle angle has gotten so much emphasis in the press.  “The Senator has not appeared in the legislature for weeks now.  The media is making inquiries.  Rumors have become rampant due to my repeated refusals to comment.”

 

Yes, no doubt.  But Kylo brushes it off.  “She is gone.”

 

“Gone where, Supreme Leader?”

 

“Gone,” he growls back.  Gone in search of a man who might kill her, but who will certainly use her for his own aims.  Rey is now the most dangerous person in the galaxy.  Her power undisciplined and uncontrollable, and her loyalties suspect. And every day she is absent, Kylo’s heart breaks a little more.  He’s not in the mood for this public questioning right now, and from his supposed rival Hux of all people.  It’s all being done under Hux’s official purview as Chancellor of the Senate, but they both know this curiosity is purely personal. 

 

“Is she dead?” the Chancellor asks bluntly with a visible gulp.

 

Kylo frowns behind his mask.   He actively endeavors to avoid thinking about this particular possibility. “I have no idea.”  She might be dead.   She might have flown right through a star or bounced too close to a supernova.  Uncharted wild space is treacherous for a reason.   Kylo looks away.  It’s quite possible that he may never know what happened to Rey.  That’s one of many outcomes which keep him up at night.

 

Hux is entirely too persistent.  “Did you kill her?” he demands. 

 

The Chancellor’s genuine concern rankles.  Kylo snarls back, “I might, if she returns.”   Not a chance, actually.  He’ll probably fall at her feet and beg her for a fresh start, promising Rey anything and everything she wants.   That’s how crazy he still is about his wayward, disappointing wife.

 

“She is coming back, then?”  Hux is really looking like a hurt puppy now.

 

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Kylo lies.   He just wants to end this conversation.   He shoots to his feet in a move that will no doubt get tongues wagging.  “That’s enough, Chancellor!” he barks.  “Dismissed!”

 

Hux bows low and withdraws fast.   “Yes, Supreme Leader.  Thank you, Supreme Leader.”

 

The whole exchange sits badly with Kylo afterwards, prompting him to head for Mustafar Castle again.  He doesn’t even bother consulting with his grandfather’s helmet when he arrives.  Kylo goes straight for the World Between Worlds portal, hoping to see Rey.  Because even if it’s not his version of Rey, it’s still Rey.   And that’s more than he has now. 

 

Did Lord Vader ever see his dead wife in the Force?  Had his grandfather used the portal to see his grandmother like Kylo is using it now to see Rey?   Maybe this is one more way in which he and his grandfather are alike.   Both lonely and forsaken by their faithless wives.  Kylo recalls all that evidence of Vader’s Force experiments to revive the dead.  That most certainly had been motivated by his grandmother, whose belongings were kept at the castle, neatly arranged as if she might return at any moment.  The everyday casual evidence of the long dead Lady Vader had shocked Kylo when he first arrived at Mustafar.   It was so creepy, so macabre, and so . . . pathetic.   Because decades later, Anakin Skywalker still had not accepted the loss of his wife.  Much of the truth of his grandparents’ relationship is lost to time, but one thing is clear:  whatever the differences between his grandparents had been, Lord Vader clearly considered himself married.  And if the story Ben Kenobi told about Vader choking his wife is true, then his grandfather must have regretted it deeply.  Love is messy, Kylo now knows.  People you love will let you down.  They will hurt you.  Maybe even betray you.  And . . . you love them still.  Because love isn’t something you let go of easily.  Love is a lot like hope.

 

With his grandfather’s constancy as an example, Kylo now steps through the portal in search of his own wife. 

 

Instead, he finds Hux.  And not Chancellor Hux.  This is General Hux in his spit and polish uniform with his amazingly perfect hair.  “Good work, Phasma,” Hux praises his colleague as he accepts from her the Skywalker heirloom lightsaber.  “He will be pleased.”

 

Kylo glares at Hux.  That lightsaber belongs to him.  But evidently not anymore.  Looking around, Kylo realizes that he’s a prisoner of the First Order.  On the _Supremacy_ , no less.  He’s not alone either.  At his side, also shackled and looking worse for wear, stands the mighty Chewbacca.  Apparently, in this reality Kylo fights with the Resistance.  And he has lost. 

 

The wookiee who Han Solo rescued decades ago now growls under his breath.  It’s a series of grunts, howls, and barks that no one but Kylo seems to understand.  “I hate that redheaded fucker.”  The looming seven-foot-tall wookiee was always far more profane than most people realized, especially his mother.  Chewbacca always watched his language around Leia Organa.

 

“Me too,” Kylo responds wholeheartedly to his father’s best pal.  If nothing else, they can agree upon their assessment of Armitage Hux.  “Me too.”

 

“You have been a good cub,” Chewbacca howls softly. “Loyal to your cause and to your clan.  I’m proud of you, Ben-Boy.”

 

The use of his childhood nickname makes Kylo gulp.   It’s been a long time since anyone called him that.

 

“We will die with honor,” the wookiee continues his matter-of-fact assessment of the situation.  “There is no shame in a warrior’s death.  We will join the rest of the family in the Force and my life debt will be repaid.”

 

“Let’s hope not,” Kylo grumbles nervously.  He’s never been sure if he can actually die in these World Between Worlds scenarios, and he isn’t keen to find out.

 

“That redhead has death in his eyes,” the wookiee observes. 

 

Yeah.   Yeah, he does.   And the Dark Force swirls strongly about Hux, like it always does around someone preparing to kill.  Kylo gulps again.

 

“He smells like fear,” the wookiee adds.   Chewbacca doesn’t have the Force, but he has keen senses and excellent instincts.  Kylo learned as a boy to trust them implicitly, and that doesn’t bode well for their current predicament. 

 

“Is she coming?” Hux complains to a subordinate as Captain Phasma stalks away. 

 

She?  She??   Now Kylo really has a bad feeling about this. 

 

“On her way down, Sir,” a junior officer dutifully reports. 

 

“Well, let’s dispense with the extraneous.   This one won’t be seeing Leader Snoke.”   Hux gestures towards Chewbacca and a nearby stormtrooper sergeant steps forward to place his blaster rifle point blank to the wookiee’s chest.  On Hux’s nod, the trooper fires.  The four-hundred-pound wookiee goes down without a sound.  He is a collapsed heap of scorched fur on the ground. 

 

Kylo breathes in a ragged breath as he watches the demise of his family’s staunchest defender.  This moment is an uncomfortable replay of the way Chewbacca had died in a firing squad with the rest of the Resistance in Kylo’s own reality.  There, the wookiee had been the enemy.   Here, he is an ally.   It’s weird how easily Kylo slots himself into either side.  But maybe that’s the point of being a Skywalker:  you are capable of anything and everything.  You can be the hero, or you can be the villain.  The only thing you can’t be is an anonymous everyman.

 

“May the Force be with you, Chewie,” Kylo murmurs softly.  He has no hard feelings for that bowcaster shot on the Starkiller.  And truth be told, Kylo is well aware that the wookiee intentionally wounded him that day.  Because if Chewbacca had wanted to kill him, he would have taken a shot to the head.   He would not have missed.  Chewie was the only non-Force user who could out shoot Han Solo, and that’s saying something.  “May the Force be with you, Chewie,” Kylo repeats his quiet blessing.

 

Up walks Rey into the mix.  She and Kylo lock eyes immediately, and he cannot look away.   He’s disappointed to see that her eyes are yellow even in this reality.  Rey is dressed in what can only be described as her Dark Apprentice version of herself.   There’s his crossguard throwback lightsaber bouncing at her hip.  She has shiny black combat boots with black trousers tucked in.   They appear to be her only concession to military protocol.  From the waist up, Rey is all Jakku.   She’s sporting a black sleeveless tunic with armored shoulders and a crimson sash.  Her bare arms are wrapped in black leather and she’s wearing fingerless black leather gloves.  Her hair is in those silly trio of buns from when they first met.  But most striking of all is the angry red diagonal scar that slashes her face.   It is a glaring mar on her beauty.

 

Fuck.   Did he do that?

 

Hux hands over Kylo’s lightsaber to Rey.  Her hands are trembling slightly, Kylo notices, as she inspects it.  Yes . . . there is some history here between them.  But self-assured Rey easily assumes command.  “Bring the prisoner,” she orders gruffly.  Then a stormtrooper behind him shoves him hard in the back with a rifle to prod him forward.  He is herded towards a waiting elevator.

 

Kylo recognizes the way to Snoke’s throne room.  As soon as the elevator door shuts and he and Rey are alone, he initiates conversation.  They will only have a few moments of privacy before this escalates big time.  “Rey,” he begins. 

 

“Jedi.”  Her tone is all withering contempt, but she’s facing away as if she can’t bear to look at him.  The Force betrays just how uncomfortable she is.  Yes . . . there is definitely history between them.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Kylo protests softly.   “Stop playing a role.”  Stop playing his role.  Because in another reality, Kylo was the captor and Rey was the prisoner in this elevator. 

 

“It’s who you are,” Rey snaps back.  “You’re the last Jedi.  The only Skywalker left to kill.”

 

Yikes.  Kylo regroups and counters, “This isn’t who you are.  You don’t have to do this.”

 

She’s looking away again as she shifts her stance.  “Of course, I do.  I must obey my master.”

 

“I feel the conflict in you--”

 

“There is no conflict.”

 

Bullshit.   “It’s tearing you apart,” Kylo accuses.  “Rey—"

 

“Next are you going to tell me ‘let go of your hate?’” 

 

“Will it work?”

 

She rolls her eyes.  “No.”

 

She’s wearing his mother’s ring, Kylo notices for the first time.  It peeks from beneath her fingerless gloves as she nervously toys with his saber.  Is that ring the spoils of war for killing the Skywalker Resistance matriarch?  Or is that Rey’s wedding ring like in his own reality? 

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Kylo presses his luck as he steps closer to loom over Rey.  “Stand with me.  I’ll help you,” he promises as finally she looks up at him.

 

They stare back at one another in a long silence.  The tension is palpable.  And just as he’s about to take a mad risk and kiss her, Rey steps away.

 

The moment is lost.

 

“Ben, I’m sorry.”  She bites at her lip. 

 

“Yeah,” Kylo sighs as he eyes the profile she has presented him.  “I’m sorry, too.”

 

Then, the elevator doors open.  And . . . Snoke.  Of course, it has to be Snoke.  The flamboyant bon vivant of the Dark Side who plotted a war in his sparkly bathrobe and matching slippers.  He has a face like a white raisin and he’s missing an ear, but his most distinguishing features are his startlingly clear blue eyes.  The rest of Snoke is so obviously contrived, from his affection for flashy Canto Bight loungewear and giant scarlet curtains, to his tedious need to paint all armaments black to underscore the ‘we’re the bad guys’ ethos of the First Order.  But those eyes are genuine.  They reflect Snoke’s mood far better than the Force.  And right now, Kylo could swear old Snoke wants to laugh.

 

“Well done,” the Supreme Leader approves from his high throne at the other end of the room.  “Well done, my good and faithful apprentice.  Rey, my faith in you is restored.”  Then, Snoke dismisses his posse of red praetorians.  “Guards, leave us,” he commands. 

 

Rey kneels the traditional Dark Side obeisance.  But Kylo’s done kneeling to this guy.  He’s no supplicant.  Especially in his current Jedi hero guise.  So he plants his feet and stands his ground.  Then he smirks his very best smirk.  Because, why not? 

 

Snoke considers his saucy chevalier pose and silently shoots lightning that knocks Kylo from his feet.  It’s like a sucker punch in the Force.  Fuck, that hurts.  Kylo has forgotten how much Snoke’s lightning burns.

 

“That’s better,” his host grins as Kylo struggles in handcuffs to right himself.  “Young Solo, I have been expecting you.”  Snoke opens a clawed hand and the Skywalker lightsaber flies from Rey’s grip with the help of the Force.  Snoke calmly intercepts it, placing it on his throne.  Then he informs Kylo, “By now you must know that your wife can never be turned from the Dark Side.   She is mine.” 

 

Wife?  So that ring is a wedding ring.  If he and Rey are married in this reality, that puts a whole new gloss on things.

 

Kylo is emboldened now.  “You underestimate Rey,” he responds coolly.  “And me.   It will be your downfall.”  Finally, Kylo succeeds in scrambling to his feet.  He stands tall before his one-time Master from a different life.  He’s not afraid of this guy.  And just look at how conveniently that lightsaber is placed.  Can history repeat itself?  Kylo can only hope.

 

“For you, all is lost,” Snoke purrs.  “You, like your uncle, will now die.  This time, we will do it in person.   There’s no need to use my Starkiller weapon.”

 

“Coward!” Kylo accuses.  “You couldn’t take out Luke Skywalker head to head.”

 

“Oh?” Snoke raises an eyebrow and lays his sarcasm on thick.   “Is that why he hid?”

 

“You’re going to be the one to die today,” Kylo boasts.   “I’m taking back Rey.”

 

Beside him, the woman in question shoots Kylo a look of alarm.  She’s bouncing her leg with nervous movement.  Like she can barely stand the suspense of this scene unfolding.

 

“You think you can turn her?” Snoke chuckles at the very thought. “Oh, you pathetic child.  I cannot be betrayed.  I cannot be beaten.  I see her mind.  I see her every intent.  She is Dark.  So, Dark.”

 

“Maybe now,” Kylo concedes as he flicks out his hands and slips the cuffs off with the help of the Force.  He stands defiant and unshackled before Snoke as he warns, “But she is not Dark forever.”

 

“At least while you live, she will be,” Snoke observes.  “For she balances you.  Darkness rises and the Light meets it.  And vice versa.”

 

Kylo rejects that theory.  Because in his own reality, Rey had turned Dark while he himself ruled as a Dark Emperor and some mystery Sith lived in wild space.  There wasn’t a Light Side Force user around to balance any of them, and yet the universe persisted.  So balance surely can’t be that simplistic.  It’s not some math equation where the sum of the Light equals the sum of Darkness.  After all, during the Old Republic there were ten thousand Jedi Knights marching around and just two Sith at any given time. 

 

“You’re wrong,” Kylo announces.  “There is no Dark.  There is no Light.   There is only the Force.”  Kylo respects the Dark Side for its ambition, for its strategy, and for its embrace of the individual.  Just like he admires the Light Side for its altruism, for its loyalty, and for its role as a champion of freedom.  But stepping back from the old ways, he now sees the Force for what it is:  a continuum from Dark to Light.  With both sides equally necessary.  With both sides shockingly similar.  And, increasingly for himself, with both sides used interchangeably.  Kylo now raises his hands and summons his power, ironically learned from this man in another reality.  “Feel my Force!” Kylo sneers as he unleashes some blue lightning of his own.

 

Snoke looks shocked.  Utterly shocked by the lightning.  And then, the decrepit old gargoyle has the gall to grin.   He doesn’t even resist Kylo’s assault.  He just sits there are takes it.  “Good.  Gooood,” Snoke crows.   “Release your anger!   Give in to hate!”

 

“Gladly.”  Kylo will embrace his emotions and embrace his rage.  He hates this motherfucker for coming between him and Rey.   For enslaving her as Apprentice like he himself was once enslaved.   He doesn’t know the details of how Snoke managed it, and he doesn’t care.  All he cares is that this Dark menace dies.   Kylo unabashedly lusts to kill.  This is righteous vengeance and rough justice combined.   He will use Darkness to fight Darkness.   He will do what must be done to reclaim the Light in Rey and in the universe at large.   And if he has to bend the rules or even break them, so be it.   He was never very good with rules anyway. 

 

“Where did you learn this, Jedi?”  Snoke gasps as he writhes in torment.

 

“I was born knowing this!”   He’s a Skywalker, a descendant of the Force, with equal capacity for Light and Dark.   And so, his hands can cast Force lightning but they can also heal with a touch.  And isn’t that the point of all these strange forays into the World Between Worlds—that Kylo can easily slip between both sides of the war and the Force.  He straddles the great moral divide of the universe.  That can’t be an accident.

 

“To use both Light and Dark is a power only one has achieved,” Snoke chokes out.  “Where did you learn this?” he demands.

 

“I was born knowing this!   I am a Chosen One!”  Kylo proclaims.  The Skywalkers have always been the greatest change agents around.  They are the fulcrum upon which fate teeters and balances, sending the galaxy careening into Light or Darkness.

 

“Revan’s been dead four thousand years.   Who taught you this?  Tell me!”

 

“You did.”   In another life and in another reality, Luke taught him the Light and Snoke taught him Darkness.  And then poor fallen Rey set him to studying old holochrons that taught him how tenuous the Light/Dark distinction truly is.   Maybe the Force is just the Force, and it should be divorced from concepts of politics and morality.  Because barring the extreme examples, morality is highly situational.  You can do evil but be well intentioned.  You can do the right thing for the wrong reasons.  Because the universe is far more grey than it is black and white, and any moral code that fails to recognize that fact is useless as far as Kylo is concerned.  That’s why he rejects outright the bright line dogma of the Jedi and the power obsessed code of the Sith.

 

His mother had been right in that weird argument scene in her office in that other World Between Worlds reality.  And Kylo is right to build another super weapon to protect his Empire in his own existence.  Because there are times—not many, but they exist—when the ends justify the means.   This, Kylo decides grimly, is also one of them.   He concentrates harder and blue fire crackles as it leaps from his fingertips.  He’s determined that Snoke will die.

 

“Stop!”  It’s Rey at his side.  She draws her sword and ignites it with a snap-hiss.  “Stop, I say!” she hollers as she somewhat belatedly intervenes on her Master’s behalf.

 

Kylo keeps his right hand shooting lightning as he gestures the left hand towards Rey.  He tugs her sword from her grip and steals her consciousness with the Force.  She slumps to the floor.  And now, Kylo advances on the smoking figure prostrate on his high throne.  Kylo has Rey’s red crossguard saber lit in one hand and he reclaims his own blue sword to ignite in the other.  The Force is with him and he’s a Skywalker.   Nothing can save this second-string wannabe Sith now.   “You’re a dead man!” he tells Snoke.

 

“Yes.  YES!   Son of Darkness.  Heir apparent to Lord Vader.  Where there was conflict, I now sense resolve.  Where there was weakness, strength.  Come and fulfill your destiny!” mangled old Snoke warbles.  Kylo has no idea what he’s talking about.  Because he’s a Jedi in this life, right?  He’s not Snoke’s Apprentice here. 

 

But whatever.   Kylo’s no fool.  He presses his advantage.  He doesn’t hesitate to issue the coup de gras.  And yet again, Snoke does not put up a fight.  Kylo spits Snoke through the heart with the red sword for the painful Sith death even as he lops off his head with a sweep of the blue blade for the mercifully quick Jedi kill.  And, yep, he’s dead.  Not even Darth Maul could survive that.

 

With the deed done, Kylo turns back to Rey lying on the floor.  He’s on his knees now, gathering her into his arms.  She fell hard.  Is she hurt?  He has her cradled in his lap as he waves a hand before her eyes to wake her with the Force.

 

“Ben.”  She blinks up at him.   Is that relief?  Alarm?  Kylo can’t tell.

 

“It’s over. He’s dead.  Are you okay?”

 

“You killed him?  Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.  Can you stand?  We need to get out of here.”

 

“Yeah, I’m okay.”  Rey climbs to her feet.  She wanders over to where Snoke lies in gruesome pieces.  Kylo follows.  He recoils a bit when he sees that the severed head has a bizarre twisted smile on its lips.  Almost like it’s happy.  Or maybe it’s mocking him.  Either way, it’s unsettling.

 

“Let’s take his escape craft,” Kylo suggests.  Is it still docked off to the left?  He rushes over to investigate as Rey stands there before the throne and Snoke’s corpse.  Yep, the escape craft is here.  And it’s powered up and ready to go as usual.  “Get in,” he calls over his shoulder to Rey.  Then he flashes a teasing smile at her, “I’ll even let you fly.”

 

“No.”

 

Er . . . what?

 

“The Supreme Leader is dead,” Rey says quietly.  Thoughtfully.

 

And why is she wasting time?  “Come on, Rey.  We can talk about it later.”

 

“No.  I know what I have to do.”

 

Something about her tone sends a chill down Kylo’s spine.  She’s not thinking what he fears she’s thinking—

 

“I am the Supreme Leader now.”

 

Fuck.  She is. 

 

“I’m not going back to the Resistance.  There’s nothing there for me now.”

 

“There’s me,” Kylo yelps.

 

“They won’t let us be together.  You know that.”

 

Is it Jedi rules against attachment that are holding her back?  Because that’s not an issue.  “Luke is dead.  There’s no one to tell us no any longer.  Rey, we can end this war.”

 

She nods and looks to him.  “Yes.  I intend to end it.  I’m going to win it.”

 

Fuck.  This is not how this scene is supposed to go down.  You’re the hero and you save the girl and she’s supposed to accept your offer because she’s grateful.  It’s what had pissed him off so completely when Rey made the grab for the saber in his own reality.  Because he had just slain his Master to save her skin and then she turned down his offer to join him.  And that’s not how happy endings work.  Fuming Kylo frowns.  Okay, well then if this version of Rey won’t join him either, he’ll just have to join her.  Except she’s not holding out her hand offering to rule the galaxy with him.  Quite the opposite in fact.

 

“You need to leave,” she dismisses him. 

 

Fuck.  “Don’t do this, Rey.  Don’t go this way,” he pleads.

 

“You’re still holding on!” she hisses back.  “We’re over.  We were a mistake.  I’m not that girl anymore.”

 

“It’s your true self, you’ve only forgotten,” he tries again.  “I see you wearing that ring!”

 

“You need to leave,” she snaps back.

 

And he does.  Frustrated to be rejected in this throne room on both the Dark Side and the Light Side, Kylo stomps off into Snoke’s escape craft and stalks through the portal he finds there back to his own reality.


	35. Chapter 35

Life in the realm of Mortis is not like living at all.  Rey never gets hungry.  She never thirsts.  She never gets tired.  She never sleeps.  All the normal cycles of the body cease.  She just . . . exists.  She isn’t cold.  She is never hot.  She’s just . . . fine.  We are alive, her father explains, but suspended in time.  For in the idyllic prison of the Force, life stands still.  There is day and there is night on Mortis, much like Rey dreamed about before she arrived, but those changes don’t seem to impact anything.  It’s weird.  

 

Snoke shrugs it off.  Her father turns out to have dozens of historically impressive aliases, none of which have any meaning to Rey except his stint as Supreme Leader Snoke.  So while Rey dutifully calls him ‘Father’ to his face, she always thinks of her host as Snoke.  He’s been immortal for a long time now, so having time stop is no big deal for him.  But Rey, who used to mark the walls of her AT-AT to chronicle her time waiting on Jakku, finds it odd.  She has no way of knowing how long she has been here. 

 

Rey soon discovers that Snoke is a talker.  A big talker.  He’s spent millennia here alone and now he’s making up for that isolation by jabbering Rey’s ear off about anything and everything.  He’s got a random anecdote or an opinion or a lesson in the Force for just about every subject.  It makes for some rather bizarre discussions.

 

Rey admires some pretty wildflowers and they remind Snoke of a battlefield on Naboo from back when the Trade Federation invaded.  He and Darth Sidious were trying to start a war back then, and they were unsuccessful.  It took almost ten full years for the Clone Wars to finally commence, he bemoans.   There hadn’t been a full-scale war since the formation of the Republic, so no one knew how to react to our aggression.  For a while, the Republic worlds simply tolerated it.  That was the hardest war ever to start, Snoke gripes, and he’s started more than a few wars in his time.  It was frustrating to be appeased over and over again.  No one wanted to fight, Snoke complains.  In hindsight, he should have just assassinated Chancellor Valorum to hurry things up.

 

Ooookay.  Rey just nods along with this twisted wisdom. 

 

Then she asks about the mountains on Mortis and Snoke starts waxing nostalgic about how they remind him of Alderaan.  He has fond memories of besieging that forest world and burning its cities to the ground back when the Sith Empire invaded the Republic.  That anecdote segues into Snoke’s recollections of invading Coruscant.  Rey gets a gleeful play-by-play of the sacking of the main Jedi Temple by a bunch of Sith Lords.  Clearly, Snoke considers his Sith Emperor years as the heyday for the Dark Side.  He’s full of stories about invasions, betrayals, and epic duels involving guys she’s never heard of. 

 

But okay.  Rey just nods along, asking a question here and there when she can get a word in edgewise.

 

As they wander a wild orchard, Rey marvels at the fragrant ripe fruit and swats at bees buzzing by.  That prompts Snoke to show off his handiwork.   He concentrates a moment and the trees begin to bloom anew in record time.  I have always loved a garden, Snoke confides as they stroll.   All true connoisseurs of the Force must be surrounded by living things.  For life creates the Force and makes it grow.  Back in my Sith Emperor days, Snoke relates, I had a large garden on Dromund Kaas.  Our capital world was a cool, humid jungle world where anything grew.  In more recent years, I kept an estate in the lake country of Naboo.  Even if I could die, Snoke muses, I would never allow myself to be buried in a red desert tomb on desolate Korriban.  I would want my body cremated on a pyre like a warrior-king, and my ashes scattered to intermingle with the soil.  That way my essence will return to the Force from which it came, and my body will too.

 

All this stream of consciousness monologue is the opposite of Rey.  Her experience growing up alone in the desert has made her very comfortable with silence.  And so, she listens for the most part, rather than contributes.   Snoke appears fine with that arrangement.  He asks her very little about herself and even less about Kylo and his fledgling Second Empire.  Egomaniac Snoke is all about himself.  He’s obviously an extrovert whereas Rey, like Kylo, is an introvert.  But rather than cause conflict, it promotes harmony.  Because Snoke has the audience he needs and Rey is content to nod along.  She doesn’t mind being the straight man foil to his litany of exploits.

 

Some of what he says is so outrageous that it can’t be true.  But, of course, it is.  Clearly, this is Snoke’s universe, Rey thinks, and the rest of us little people are lucky to live in it.   And while Snoke’s precise recollection of events dating from thousands of years ago is impressive, it’s his demeanor that has Rey most dumbfounded. The casual manner in which he discusses the rise and fall of great civilizations, the nonchalant tone in which he admits to extreme cruelty, the indifferent attitude towards morality in general—it’s everything she ought to expect from the man who destroyed Hosnia.  But still . . . wow.  Snoke is a strangely charming mix of arrogance, intelligence, and loneliness.  Worst of all, he’s fun.  He shouldn’t be.  But he is.  And he knows it.

 

It’s not all lectures.  Snoke teaches Rey the Force.  His instruction eschews the practical skills Kylo taught.  Instead, he focuses almost exclusively on deep meditation aimed at promoting her connection to the Force.  The stronger and more effortless the connection, the more powerful you grow.  This is key, Snoke explains, because you mature into your power.  As a Chosen One, she has almost limitless potential, he reveals.  But first, she must unlock the bottleneck between her and the Force.  Feel it flowing through you.  You are the conduit for its will and, in turn, it obeys your command.   Let go and surrender yourself to the Force.   Make it your ally, he instructs with a crafty wink.

 

His back-to-basics approach is very intentional.  There have been Force users with excellent connections to the Force but limited power who surpassed Force users with enormous power they could not fully tap. The connection is key, Snoke teaches, sounding vaguely like Rey remembers Luke Skywalker.  But there is a catch:  Snoke will let her connect to the Force with any emotion except pain.  She’s got the pain part down.  That’s how you turned your eyes yellow, he chides.   They will become normal in time when you stop rushing your power.   Pain is the quick and easy path, but it has limits and risks.   Too much Darkness is dangerous.  It can consume you.  Trust me, for I speak from experience, Snoke intones.   I spent centuries consuming one host body after another to achieve my aims. 

 

You can channel the Force with any emotion, even happy ones, Snoke teaches.  Emotions run the full gamut and they are all useful.  In time, she will relearn to connect with peace and calm like a Jedi would.  You will be all things in the Force, Daughter.  I will teach you, Snoke promises.  Balance yourself and you will build a foundation for lasting power that is far greater than mere Darkness.   You are capable of wielding it all.  So do not confine yourself to half of the Force.   There are no limits for people like us, he boasts.

 

She struggles, but Snoke is a surprisingly patient teacher.  It reminds her of Kylo.  For all her husband’s petulant impatience with his underlings, he had never been anything but thoughtful when teaching Rey.  Kylo also has the same great reverence for the Force that Snoke has.  They speak with a similar serious awe about it.  It’s very different from Rey’s original approach of viewing the Force as a means to an end, like a set of skills to be mastered.  The neat tricks will come later, Snoke assures her, and they will come easier, provided that you have the proper foundation.

“Is this the way you taught Kylo?” Rey asks, wondering if she should feel dissed.

 

Snoke shakes his head no.  “Kylo Ren showed up a Jedi with years of practice connecting with the Force.  You, my dear, know next to nothing.  So, we will begin at the beginning.”

 

And that launches Snoke into the background of how he began the First Order over thirty years ago when he first learned of Ben Solo.  With one eye on the earnest dark-haired adolescent whose power frustrated his mother and scared his uncle, Snoke began laying the groundwork for the Second Empire.  Planning all along to one day hand it over to his Apprentice.   I made sure that by the time that boy came of age, I had armies waiting to act at his disposal and just the right amount of political unrest simmering.   Conditions would be ripe for civil war once again, Snoke plotted.  For he vowed that this latest Skywalker son would not disappoint him.   

 

Snoke’s smile is sly as he relates how easy Kylo’s family had made the whole transition.  They never told him about his grandfather, so I made sure that news leaked out publicly to politically embarrass Leia Organa.  As planned, my Apprentice learned of his heritage over the holonet in blaring breaking news.  Not from his Jedi Master who preached incessantly against Darkness or from his parents who spoke too often within earshot about their fears for their son.  Snoke chuckles as he recalls the circumstances. That boy was already somewhat alienated even if he was still trying hard to be a good Jedi.  Struggling to earn his family’s attention, respect, and love.  But then Skywalker tried to murder him and my desperate Apprentice dug deep and managed a Force shockwave that I felt all the way here.  Ben Solo had just taken his first steps into a much larger world, Snoke intones sagely.  The act confirmed Skywalker’s worst fears, destroyed the Jedi temple, and killed most of the students.  And that was that.  Within a week, the disillusioned young Jedi was kneeling fealty to me and the universe was yet again on a course towards balance. 

 

Snoke’s eyes slant towards her now.  What I didn’t count on was you, Daughter.  Kylo Ren and I both sensed your existence at your awakening, but he was the one to find you. That was no accident.  That was the Force at work. Suddenly, destiny had rearranged itself and things would unfold differently.  So, I bridged your minds.  Snoke looks smug.  Given how taken Kylo Ren was by you, it was probably unnecessary.  But I wanted to hurry things along.  Fortunately, the Force agreed.  And, Snoke pronounces with great relish and a theatrical flourish, here we are.  

 

Yes, here she is.  Rey is still processing all that she has learned.  She has so much to tell Kylo.  He needs to know about her origins.  He needs to know about Snoke.  But most of all, he needs to know that Snoke is no threat to him.  For her father professes to have no intention of reclaiming his Supreme Leader role.  The ancient prisoner Sith seems to fancy himself above the day to day tasks of ruling the First Order.  He’s done that gig several times already, Snoke reminds Rey.  He will delegate it to his Apprentice.  He’s content to let Kylo rule like he once let Sidious rule the first Empire. 

 

Snoke has considerable pride in Kylo, Rey realizes with a bit of shock.  Whatever their relationship was as Master and Apprentice, Snoke seems to think Kylo has graduated past all that.   The war, the search for Skywalker, the murder of Han Solo, and the showdown in the throne room—Snoke considers that all necessary training—just like he considers Kylo’s formative years as a Jedi necessary too.  Snoke is like some dominant father figure who browbeat his son to impart his knowledge and then sat back to wait for him to rebel.  And when he finally did, Snoke was pleased, not angry.  It demonstrated that it was time for the Apprentice to leave the nest. 

 

But will Kylo believe that?   Rey suspects not. She fears that he will receive the news about Snoke as yet one more would-be usurper plotting against him.   Poor Kylo is so beset with enemies already.   Certainly, Kylo will be angry with her for leaving.  He made it clear all along that he alone would deal with the mystery Sith.  But Rey does not regret leaving.  She is glad to know the truth.   And Snoke, for all his megalomania, is growing on her.  Plus, his training is helping.  Just this morning, Snoke greeted her with a smile and bade her to find her reflection in the pond. 

 

What she sees there is astounding:  her eyes are no longer yellow. 

 

Rey gasps.  It is another moment of de ja vu from the dream that led her here. 

 

This is more proof that the Force wanted you to come, Snoke decides.  The Force wanted us to meet so that you could become balanced.  For that is the constant push of the universe—balance.  It took him many lifetimes to understand that, Snoke admits, but now that he has lived several millennia, he sees the patterns repeating themselves.   There is a purpose to it all, he contends.  If history repeats, it’s for a reason.   The cosmic Force wants to give us another chance to get it right.  Staring back at her reflection in the pond, Rey can’t help but agree that balance is the answer to it all.  Snoke agrees.  Balance will usher in a new golden age of the Force, he promises, and it will set me free.  

 

In between meditation sessions, Snoke goes on at length about anything and everything.  So on the rare occasion when Snoke actually shuts up, Rey is ill at ease.  “What?” she demands, leveling him a pointed, suspicious look.  “Whaaat?”  He’s making her self-conscious as he silently observes her.

 

“Am I staring?   Forgive me.  I am continually struck by how you resemble my Tosca.  You are so different as women, even though you look alike.  It is disconcerting for me, Daughter.  It’s like seeing her again in the flesh after all these years have passed.”

 

“Feeling guilty?” Rey needles him. She’s heard the tale twice already of how Snoke murdered his one and only lady love in a fit of jealous rage.

 

Her father considers a moment before answering. “I have my share of regrets,” he allows slowly.   “She taught me an important lesson.  I didn’t see it that way at the time, of course.   But with distance, it became clear.”

 

This is a respite from Snoke’s usual war stories and political intrigues, so Rey encourages the topic.  “How did you meet her?”

 

“She somehow talked her way into an audience.  I never did learn how.  It was quite extraordinary so it made an impression. Normally, I did not receive ladies in my throne room, only Lords.  She came because her husband was among a group of Lords I decided to purge.  The ranks of the Sith had become lackluster from indulgence and easy living.   The Lords had become complacent.  It was time to shake things up.”  Snoke shrugs.  “Hardship hones a Sith.  Pain sharpens his resolve.  Fear motivates him.  All three are essential for proper Dark training.”

 

“So you were going to kill her husband,” Rey summarizes.

 

“He was proscribed, yes.  The list was unofficial but had leaked out.”

 

“She came to beg for mercy.”

 

“Mercy?” Snoke looks amused at the quaint thought.  “From me?   No, no,” he corrects.  “You don’t beg mercy from a Sith Emperor any more than you ask for forgiveness.  That’s not how Sith society worked.   She came to strike a deal.   Lady Tosca offered to serve in temple rituals in exchange for me sparing her husband’s life.”

 

“Temple women were abused in all sort of ways for Dark rituals.   They usually were castoffs from the ruling families.   Women with the Force who had disgraced their family honor and lost the protections of the Dark patriarchy.   It was an ugly fate that served as an effective deterrent.  That meant temple women were generally in short supply.  So you see, what Tosca offered was both an inducement and a sacrifice.   She couched it in terms of protecting her two sons,” Snoke recalls.  “They would never find suitable Apprentice positions if their father were to be proscribed.  In those days, Apprenticeships were strategic relationships.  Families angled to establish alliances and curry favor by placing their sons with influential Masters who could further their career and enhance the family glory.”

 

“And you agreed?”

 

“Yes.  On a whim.”  Rey must look shocked because he hurries to explain, “Oh, I didn't let her near the temple priests. I kept her for my own private rituals.”  

 

“I won’t ask,” Rey deadpans.

 

“Then, I won’t tell,” Snoke responds with a rakish smirk.  “But I warn you that the Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities, some considered to be unnatural.”

 

“Ewwwww.”  Rey shoots him a look and unrepentant Snoke grins.  “Ewwwww,” she repeats.  “No details, please.  I get it--you seduced her.”

 

“Was there any doubt?” he chuckles.   “Daughter, you are prim for a married woman.  Or maybe it’s my Apprentice who is the prim one, eh?  Did the celibate Jedi have him too long?”

 

Rey remembers being handcuffed to the bed for Kylo’s ‘training.’  “No,” she speaks up to defend her husband’s prowess.  “Not at all.”  She catches Snoke’s eye and he smothers another chuckle.  He’s always laughing at her.

 

“Tosca was hardly the usual femme fatale,” Snoke assesses.  “Sith ladies cultivated aggressive beauty.  Their lure was bold and shameless.  And usually cold.  A Sith lady of fashion might wear a low-cut dress, but always with a frown.  Never a come-hither smile.   They played hard to get and had to be chased.  And even when you caught them—even when they wanted to be caught—they put up a fight.  And to keep them, you had to cater to their fickle whims.”

 

Rey knows the type.  “High maintenance.” 

 

“Exceedingly so.  But not Tosca.   She was pretty in a simple way.   And she was direct.   She didn’t play games and she was never petulant or passive aggressive.  It was so refreshing.  I was hooked immediately.”  Snoke falls silent for a long moment before adding, “She was very good.  I think I was as drawn to her goodness as I was to her beauty.” 

 

Rey frowns.  “She sacrificed herself for her family.”

 

Snoke frowns now too.  “I never could decide if she had betrayed her husband by approaching me.   She cost him his honor but she saved his life.  Which did the man value more?”

 

“I would have valued my life over my honor,” Rey the Jakku survivor volunteers.

 

“As would I,” wily Snoke agrees, adding dryly, “You don’t spend centuries seeking immortality if you have scruples over honor.  Had she sacrificed for my life, I would not have considered it a betrayal but a tribute,” he muses.  “But I’m not certain her husband saw it the same.”  Snoke shakes his head.  “The man was unworthy.”

 

“So he lived?”

 

“I let him live.   It was what she wanted.  I gave her that, at least.   And I made sure her sons were apprenticed to worthy Masters, even though they turned out to be thoroughly forgettable Sith.”

 

“So in all those subsequent years, there was never anyone else for you?” Rey is curious.

 

“Oh, do not misunderstand me, Daughter.  There were plenty of women, and several consorts.  But none who mattered.  None who came close to Tosca.”  That is a bittersweet recollection because Snoke laments, “She never loved me.   She said she did, but she didn't.  Nothing I could give her or do for her could convince her to love me.  She loved her family.  Her love for them was impervious to my power.  And that was the lesson:  that love can be stronger than power.   Not always, but sometimes.” 

 

Rey thinks of Kylo.  Will he ever understand why she has come here?   Will he ever forgive her transgression?   Can he understand how important it was for her to find her father?  “I don’t know . . . “  Rey has her doubts about love.  She is very new to love.  And her and Kylo’s love is nothing like what she’s seen depicted on the holonet.  It’s much messier.

 

“Do not underestimate love like I did,” Snoke instructs.  “Tosca’s bargain was worth it.  She knew how precious love was.  I did not.  It took me many more lifetimes of living to realize how rare and precious love is.  And how powerful.”

 

“I don’t know . . .”  Rey equivocates.  “People fall in and out of love all the time.”  Love seems more easy come, easy go for other people, at least.

 

Snoke is undeterred.  “Oh, I’m counting on it, Daughter.  I am counting on love.  Love will set me free,” he smirks. 

 

Rey’s eyes narrow.  She understands his implication.  “Kylo won’t come for me.”  They have had this conversation before. 

 

Snoke’s rejoinder is always confident.  “He will come.  I have foreseen it.”  Her face is solemn as he tells her, “I always trust the Force.”

 

Exchanges like this make Rey wonder if she is a de facto hostage.   Was she lured here so Kylo would follow her?  If so, that strategy will fail.  Kylo is highly skeptical of this man, even without knowing his identity.  And, Rey suspects, Kylo won’t be chasing after her anytime soon.  He warned her not to seek her father many times.  Kylo was certain Rey’s quest was a trap.  And, frankly, Rey still isn’t sure if it is or not.  But she’s not unhappy and she is enjoying both Snoke’s company and his training.  So, Rey plays along.  She wants to know her father, even if he’s a treacherous, Dark mastermind.  Because at least he didn’t sell her off for drinking money. 

 

“How do you balance the Force anyway?” she asks.  She’s heard a lot extolling the merits of balance, but nothing about how to achieve it.

 

“Revan came close.   Very close.” 

 

Rey dutifully asks, “Who is Revan?”  He’s probably someone she should know, but doesn’t.  Rey hates how limited her education is.  Normally, that’s not a huge issue because Rey studies up on new things as they arise.  She’s always had a very curious mind.  And now that she’s serving as a Senator, Rey has learned ways to hide her ignorance and to make up for her lack of formal teaching.  She’s become quite ashamed of her Jakku past.  Thankfully, like Kylo, Snoke doesn’t fault her for it.

 

“Who is Revan?   Darth Revan?”  Snoke gives her a pointed look.  “The very question is a slap in the face.   But you are far from the only citizen who would ask that question, Daughter.  Revan is your Republic’s greatest hero.  Three times he saved your democracy.  First from the invading Mandalors.  Then from his brother’s assault.   And finally, from me.   Revan thoroughly eclipses Luke Skywalker.  And yet, no one knows his name.” 

 

“I’ve never heard of him.  Darth Revan is a hero of the Republic??”  How is anyone named Darth a hero of the Republic?  Rey raises an eyebrow as she waits for Snoke’s history lesson.

 

“Revan was the ultimate Jedi and not a bad Sith.”  Coming from Snoke, that’s high praise indeed.  Rey starts listening closely now.  “Revan was a patriot at heart.  He loved the Republic and its ideals.  He embodied the Jedi ethos of compassion completely.  That’s why he was extremely vocal when the Senate and the Jedi Order looked the other way at the suffering of the Rim worlds at the hands of my Mandalorian invaders.”

 

“Wait—you were behind that invasion?”

 

“Oh, yes, of course.  As Sith Emperor, I liked to stir up trouble for the Republic now and then.  It kept both sides on their toes,” Snoke explains. “It was good for all involved.”   Then he resumes his story.  “Revan was a headstrong young man, like most new leaders are.  Charismatic, too.  He and his brother took it upon themselves to rebel against the High Council.  Revan and his Jedi Crusader followers went to war to drive out the Mandalorians.  They vowed to save the Republic from its complacency and bad leadership.”

 

“Did it work?”

 

“For the Republic?  Yes.  For Revan?  No.”

 

“Oh.  Somehow I knew that was going to be the answer,” Rey grumbles and it prompts Snoke to laugh.

 

“Revan was an exceptional tactician, ruthless in his willingness to match his enemy’s brutality.  He figured out that he had to beat the Mandalors at their own game.  That was conduct unbecoming to a Jedi, of course.  So while Revan narrowly saved the Republic from my proxy invaders, he and his followers were judged war criminals for their success.  Declared enemies of the state and exiled for life for their well-intentioned forays into the Dark Side.  The one Jedi General who returned to answer the charges laid against them was stripped of the Force and sent on her way in disgrace.  Like Revan, she was a hero misjudged a villain.”

 

“But you were the real villain.”

 

“Naturally,” Snoke preens. 

 

Rey rolls her eyes and he snorts.  Snoke never takes offense at her irreverence.  He quite enjoys it, Rey suspects.  “So, what happened to Revan?” 

 

“He had figured out that the Mandalorians were my pawns.   Revan and his brother showed up at my hidden stronghold determined to kill me.   Truly, it was a pathetic attempt.  But I quite liked them anyway.  I was impressed by their gumption,” Snoke confides.  “Revan and Malak were men of principle.  They had the spirit of true Jedi.  And yet, they were already Dark though they didn’t realize it.  I just helped things along and then sent them back to the Republic as my agents.” 

 

“Was that when he became Darth Revan?”

 

“Hmmm, yes,” Snoke replies, thinking back.  “It did not progress as planned.   It became a civil war, but not as I plotted.  Revan became more Light, as his brother grew Darker.   In the end, Revan slew his brother to stop his separate conquest of the Republic.  My plans were thwarted for a time and the Star Forge asset was destroyed in the process.” 

 

“You mean you lost?” Rey surmises.

 

“It was a victory deferred,” Snoke counters.  “Revan came for me again.   I had become something of an obsession for him.  By then, he was a man without a creed or a state.   The Jedi and the Republic wanted nothing to do with him.   Such fools!   He was their best and brightest.  But even Revan considered himself to be a failure.  He was a fallen Jedi who was too impure to live by his cult’s constraints.  But he could not bring himself to continue as a full-fledged Sith either.  He had far too many scruples.  The man was full of compassion.  His true nature was Light even if his analytical mind led him to make Dark choices.  He was something of an enigma.  I found him fascinating,” Snoke admits.

 

“So . . . what happened?”

 

“I kept him prisoner.  I picked his brain for knowledge of the Jedi and the Light and for information about the Republic.  Revan and I played mind games with one another for a few centuries.  He was a worthy opponent.”  Snoke looks oddly wistful now.  “I have often thought of him as inspiration during my own years of captivity.   Revan exerted quite an influence on me.  His ideas challenged me.  They broadened me.” 

 

“So . . . did Revan want balance?”  

 

“No one did back then.  The Jedi were only interested in keeping the Force pure in the Light.  And, well, I wasn’t interested in balance either.  I only wanted more power.   Mastery of the Dark Side alone was not sufficient.  I wanted to master the entire Force.  To rule it all.  And Revan could do it.”

 

“How?”

 

“He could use both the Dark Side and the Light Side interchangeably.  Others have been both Jedi and Sith, but none have used both skillsets simultaneously.  Revan could shoot lightning and then heal with a touch.  He was no match for my Darkness, of course.   But the breadth of his talents was enviable.  He was very nimble with his power, even if it paled in comparison to my own.”  Snoke pauses.  “Ordinarily, I would have killed him, but I admired him too much.   Plus, it would have been a waste to destroy him and lose all that knowledge.”  Snoke has a rare moment of self-awareness now.  “I was never the same Sith after Revan.”  And is that admission a lament or just a statement?  Rey isn’t sure.  “After Revan, I started to mellow.”

 

“Mellow?”  Really?  Really??

 

“Yes.  I’m afraid that during my first millennia, I tended towards the extreme.  But when you are a Sith Lord from age thirteen onward, without any Master or true father as a mentor, you prove yourself with ruthless ambition.  In those years, I was a young man in a hurry,” Snoke decides.  “But once I had done everything possible one could do as a Sith, Revan came along and opened my eyes to new possibilities.”

 

“Revan was the only Jedi I knew who fell to the Dark Side out of selflessness.  All the others—including Anakin Skywalker—succumbed to Darkness for selfish reasons.”  This is the poignant crux of the tale that seems to grip Snoke so completely.  For he is even more animated than usual as he makes his point.  “It was all so innocent, Daughter.  Therein lies the tragedy of the man.  For Revan set out to fight the Mandalorians and found he could not beat them and remain firmly in the Light.   He and his Jedi followers resorted to Darkness to win, thinking they could repent afterwards with no lasting consequences.  Such ignorance!” Snoke scoffs.  “Such hubris!   Those silly Jedi knew not what they did.  For Darkness is dangerous.  Darkness leaves its mark.  You cannot dabble in Darkness without being changed by it.  By the time Revan and his brother tracked me down, they were Sith in all but name only.  I was so struck by that fact.” 

 

“Darkness is a choice,” Rey recalls Kylo’s teaching.

 

“Indeed.  But Revan chose Darkness to save the Light.  I knew he and Malak would be something special.  I thought they might become great Sith.  And arguably the brother did.   But Revan was something unprecedented.  It took me many centuries to realize that he was a prophet of the Force.  A harbinger of things to come who came too soon.  Neither the Jedi nor I understood at the time.”  Snoke is contemplative as he reveals, “My enemy Revan has been a lasting inspiration for me.”

 

Rey thinks of her one-time enemy Kylo Ren and how he has become an unexpected ally.   Friends and foes can change fast and look different than you expect when the bright lines of Dark and Light become blurred.

 

Snoke’s mind is still in the past.  “Revan first piqued my interest in the Light.  So when I found myself bored in here, I projected myself into the Jedi Order to experience it firsthand.”

 

“I wish I could have seen that,” Rey smirks.

 

“Does it shock you that an old Sith Emperor masqueraded as a Jedi?” Snoke teases.

 

“No.   I’ll bet you loved it!” she accuses.

 

“I did!  I actually did it twice!  Each time, I waved around a blue sword and pledged allegiance to the Republic like a good knight.  All the while, laughing at them behind my facade of earnestness.  The Jedi’s version of the Force was so simplistic.  Their view of the galaxy so myopic.  Their understanding of history so self-centered.  But they had some wisdom and some inspiration,” he concedes. 

 

“Oh?” Rey raises an eyebrow.  That’s the first praise she’s heard from Snoke for the Jedi Order.

 

“All that Jedi superstition prompted me to undertake a true scientific study of the Force.  I spent years investigating midichlorians to debunk their myths.  That’s how I accidentally discovered how to create life using the Force.”  He leans in conspiratorially.  “The dirty secret of that Sith trick is that it is accomplished with mostly Light Side power.”

 

“Creation is Light?”

 

“And destruction is Dark,” Snoke provides the corollary.  “As a Sith, I had learned to destroy life and to prolong it.  But thanks to my time as a Jedi, I learned to create life and, in time, to resurrect it.   So, you see, it was worth waving a blue sword around.”  Snoke resumes teaching as they begin to stroll again.  “The Force is life.  The Force finds a way just like life finds a way.  Ever changing, always evolving, and renewing itself generation after generation.”  He slants a sly glance over her direction.  “You don’t know do you?”

 

“Know what?”  Rey isn’t following.

 

“You are with child.” 

 

“Whaaaat?” Rey stops in her tracks.  Did she hear right?  Please let her have heard wrongly.

 

Snoke smirks at her reaction.  “Within your womb grows a new life.  Concentrate and you will sense it.  A new Chosen One.  Perhaps the greatest of them all.  The Force is strong in my family--” he begins.

 

“Oh, Gods,” Rey gulps.   She is suddenly anxious and trembling.

 

“You really must stop saying that, Daughter,” Snoke chides.  “There are no gods.  There is only the Force.” 

 

“Oh, Gods.”

 

“Come here, my dear.”  Rey stands there stone faced with shock as Snoke envelopes her in fatherly hug. “I am pleased.  I am very pleased,” he informs her.


	36. chapter 36

On the day that Rey is gone six months, Kylo declares it a milestone.  It’s time to move on.  He’s done being miserable and rejected.  He shaves his beard off and he summons his lawyers.  Prepare divorce papers, he instructs, on grounds of desertion.  And, yes, he said that there was no divorce option, but he’s changed his mind.  He refuses to remain married to a woman who betrays him. 

 

Next, Kylo resolves to start dating.  Holonet dating.  But that turns out to be a project itself.  Kylo spends the entire morning trying to write a profile description of himself in 300 characters or less. It’s an impossible task.  But he gives it a shot. 

 

_Bored of meeting disappointing people?  I’m the guy for you.  Divorced, no kids, ready for fun and casual dating.  First Order politics a plus but not necessary.  No aliens please._

 

Nah, that’s all wrong, Kylo decides.  He’s giving the wrong impression.  He’s ready for some fun, but Kylo knows he himself isn’t fun.  So he tries again, aiming to be more specific.  

 

_It’s lonely at the top.  Been too busy with my career to do much dating. But now I’m ready to settle down.  Passionate, impulsive, busy executive seeks beautiful, intelligent, low maintenance woman for a soul mate.  I like pod racing, the Force, war, and Darth Vader. I hate holidays, my family, disorder, and people who laugh too loudly or too much.  Not into drama/lies/betrayals/secrets/commitment issues/Jakku._

 

And, well, maybe that’s too honest.  With a scowl, Kylo deletes that attempt and starts over. 

 

_Romantic nerd/thoughtful loner unlucky at love wants to move on.  My ex broke my heart and I’m equal parts fucking pissed and suicidal.  Be my rebound one-night stand (at your palace, not mine)._

Nope.  Way too honest.  Desperate, too.  Kylo cringes as he rereads that effort, and then immediately deletes it, too.  Who knew this dating thing would be so hard?  And, unfortunately, this isn’t a task he can delegate.  That realization sends him surfing the holonet for advice on how to write a good dating profile.  Luckily, he’s not the only one who finds this task daunting.  Kylo reads how he should be witty but serious, and appear hardworking and successful but still laid back.  Oh, and he should be intelligent but still approachable.  Smart but not too smart.  Impressive but not off-putting.  Basically, he’s supposed to be a mess of contradictions.  Er . . . huh?     

 

Kylo reads sample profiles that include obnoxious made up sap like ‘I like long speeder rides, twin sunsets, and lazy Sunday mornings.’  He sees profiles of men who are gourmet cooks, wine enthusiasts, and music aficionados.  Some are clearly way too into their dogs.  These are guys who describe themselves as fun-loving, adventurous dudes with a good sense of humor.  They purport to be up for either a night on the town or a ‘holonet and chill’ evening.  Because they are the malleable, easygoing type you can take home to mother.  Ugh.  That’s not him.  That’s not him at all. 

 

He’s an intense, workaholic creature of habit. 

 

His only hobby is flying and he hates pets. 

 

He thinks he hates holonet dating now too. 

 

As if the profile wording isn’t bad enough, there are pictures. You have to post pictures. After a couple of fruitless attempts at a proper selfie, Kylo gives up on the picture part.  Grinning isn’t something he does well.  And all he sees when he looks at the pictures is the faint scar that remains from the Starkiller duel.  Kylo has never been into how he looks—that’s one plus of wearing a mask.  He’s well aware that he has a long nose and big ears.  Plus, posing shirtless makes him feel like a vain idiot.  

 

Forget the pictures.  He decides to work on the wording part again.   This time, Kylo endeavors to be less honest and more direct. 

 

_I might ruin your life. People will warn you against me.  But if it’s destiny, who cares?   Fuck them all and give me a chance.  Because if we’re fate, you won’t be able to get away anyhow._

 

There.  That’s perfect.  Except the one girl in the universe who it would work on is already gone.  Kylo reads it again, focusing on the last line.   And that’s what convinces him to stay married . . . for now.  His faith is being tested, Kylo realizes.  He should trust in the Force that things will work out with Rey in the end.  With that sentiment in mind, he calls off his lawyers.  Perhaps it’s not yet time to move on.  Besides, holonet dating is more intimidating than an interview with angry Snoke.  It’s even more anxiety ridden than his uncle’s Force projection mocking him before his troops at Crait.  He’ll just be miserable awhile longer, Kylo resolves. 

 

Three months later, Rey is still AWOL and insurrection is afoot.  One morning, Kylo is marching across the Palace landing platform to board his shuttle when he is rushed by a group of military malcontents.  They are disguised as stormtroopers in a poorly planned assassination attempt.  The Force tips him off to danger, as always.  Kylo immediately lights his sword and summons his power.  In seconds, he easily dispenses with the six attackers.  They lie in pieces strewn about the ground.

 

“Any more?” Kylo hollers as he looks around glaring.  “Bring it on!”   Bring it the fuck on because he is ready.   He’s got a lot of pent-up anger to release and the rush of real combat had felt good.  It’s been far too long since anyone has shot at him.  Peacetime is dull and he needed that adrenaline.  He should kill people more often, Kylo thinks.  It really takes the edge off his stress.

 

It takes two days to track down all the conspirators.   They are amateurs who appear to have acted without proper planning or imagination.  Kylo laughs as he listens to the intel presentation detailing the full plot.  “Ready to take your turn?” Kylo goads Armitage Hux who sits in attendance by special request.  That prompts the Chancellor to dutifully and repeatedly vow his loyalty.  They both know it’s a well-rehearsed lie.  If Hux had plotted the assassination attempt, its outcome would have been far less certain.  As annoying as Hux is, the man knows his stuff.  Kylo keeps him close and keeps him watched.

 

Feeling more besieged than ever, Kylo decides he needs a friend.  That sends him back to the holonet dating sites.   He spends hours one week looking at profiles of single women.  He settles on a pretty, chubby blonde elementary school teacher.   She has a happy, relatable smile and she looks nice.  Non-threatening and supportive, like he wants.   This girl wouldn't pull a gun on him in the Takodano woods and start shooting.  She would never throw four praetorians to their deaths.   She would stand by her man through whatever happens.   And if he offered her the galaxy and asked her to join him, she would be flattered and not pissed off.

 

This girl says she wants a relationship for an end goal of marriage.   She likes kids and she loves her family.  She lists several non-objectionable hobbies and her profile is full of pictures of her dressed up as a bridesmaid at her friends’ weddings.   Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.  Poor girl, he thinks.   Well, he can change all that.  He can make her an Empress.  Kylo sends her a message and starts planning their future. 

 

Later that day, he receives a message back.  It turns out that his new girlfriend is no longer single.  Kylo reads her exceedingly polite response.  She’s embarrassed that she forgot to take down her dating profile.  She’s been too busy planning her wedding and that task sort of slipped through the cracks.  She thanks Kylo for his interest and wishes him luck in love.  Kylo is especially disappointed because now he likes her even more.   She’s so nice.  So . . . not Rey.

 

That leads him to debate taking matters into his own hands.  His secret police could easily get rid of the fiancé, and then the nice teacher girl would be available.  But Kylo decides against it.  She’s happy, and he’s happy for her even though they have never met.  Everyone wants to be happy.   Seeing that this girl has managed it gives Kylo renewed hope for himself.  But with almost ten months without Rey, things are looking bleak.

 

And that’s why on his next trip to the Rim, Kylo detours to Mustafar Castle on the way home.  It’s been many months since he’s last been here, but maybe a sojourn into the World Between Worlds is worth a shot.  Maybe the Force will give him a version of Rey that doesn’t reject him this time around.  That might really cheer him up.

 

So, with a deep breath and a quick prayer to the Force, Kylo steps through the portal and discovers that he’s handcuffed.  Great.  Apparently, he’s a prisoner again.  But he’s not a Jedi prisoner, he realizes, as he looks down at his First Order uniform.  He’s in Supreme Leader Ren garb minus the sword, mask, and gloves. 

 

The door opens and Kylo looks up to see Rey enter his cell.  From the looks of her tidy Resistance uniform, he won’t be marched into Snoke’s throne room any time soon.  Rey’s eyes are normal in this reality, Kylo notes with some relief.  Maybe that means she likes him this time around.

 

But he’s getting weird vibes.  This Rey is nervous.  Very, very nervous.  “I’m sorry about this,” she stammers with sincerity.  “I never thought it would end like this.”  Rey’s face is guilty and her demeanor is upset.  And that does not bode well for him.

 

Kylo says nothing.   He has no idea what’s going on in this reality.   So his strategy is to stare Rey down and use the silence to his advantage.

 

It works.  Rey continues making her excuses.  “I tried to talk them out of this, but with Hux already dead they need to make an example out of someone for Hosnia.  No one wants to let that war crime go unpunished.”  

 

Great.  So, he’s a war criminal now?   This is not good.  But it explains the handcuffs and the cell.

 

Squirming Rey looks like she’s about to cry.  “I tried to talk them out of this.  R-Really, I did.  But they are so af-fraid of you.  It didn’t help that your mother recused herself.  She made it look like she was fine with a d-death sentence.”

 

Death sentence?   Wonderful.  This reality keeps getting worse.  Kylo keeps his stern silence as he eyes his miserable girl.

 

A lone tear leaks down Rey’s cheek now.  She shifts her weight side to side as she keeps her distance in the small cell.  “I’m s-sorry.  Ben, I’m so s-sorry.  You trusted me and I . . . I . . . ”  Rey’s words trail off.  Apparently, that’s as far as she will go with her confession.  She moves on from her mea culpa now as she fights to regain her composure.  “The General wants to see you.  She’s on her way now—"

 

“I don’t want to see her.”  Leia Organa always makes things worse.

 

“I know. I tried to talk her out of it.  But, well, you know . . .   When she’s got her mind made up, she can be very stubborn.”

 

Yes, he knows.  “I don’t want to see her,” Kylo repeats.  His words are harsh and clipped.  And just as aggrieved as he feels right now.  Seeing Rey in the flesh in this reality has a mix of strong emotions bubbling up.

 

“Luke is here, too.”

 

“Got any other good news?” Kylo demands.    

 

His biting sarcasm makes Rey blanch.  “Not really,” she admits.  “I wish I did.  Ben, you have to believe me . . .”  She falters a moment to wipe at her eyes again and sniffs.   “I didn’t realize that I was bait for a trap.”

 

Before they can discuss that topic further, a Resistance Officer sticks his head into the cell. “Rey, the Jedi wants to see you.  And you’re not supposed to be in here.  It’s not safe.  Those are the General’s orders.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Rey answers him.  “I’ll leaving now,” she promises.  Then she turns back to Kylo.  “Luke is arguing with the leadership about how to carry out the sentence,” she explains awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. 

 

“You mean how to execute me?”

 

Rey nods and sniffs.  And now, it gets really uncomfortable as she asks, “Do you have a preference?  Because if you do, I’ll let him know.”

 

“What are my options?”

 

“Firing squad . . . lethal injection . . . sword.   I think that’s it.  They decided against a hanging.  Said it was too archaic.”

 

Kylo agrees.  “Sword,” he suggests automatically.

 

“No!” Rey steps forward as she objects.  “They’ll make me do it!” she hisses. “Please choose something else.”

 

“Sword,” he repeats, doubling down on his selection.   A Dark Force user should die by the sword.  Not like a regular prisoner in a firing squad.  Or by lethal injection like a criminal.  He’d rather be eaten by a rancor than be put to death by lethal injection, like you might put down some rabid animal.  Kylo’s eyes dart back to Rey now.   In another life when the roles were reversed, he had saved this woman from her own execution.   But it doesn’t look like she’s about to return the favor.  He’s unsure of any of the circumstances, but it’s clear that Rey has betrayed him.  So, he’s not going to make it easy for her. 

 

Kylo grits his teeth as he repeats again, “Sword.” 

 

“But Ben—“

 

“If you’re too squeamish, then my uncle can finish what he started years ago.  Get him to do it.  Luke almost did it once before.” 

 

“Yeah . . . okay.  I’ll go tell him.”  Deeply troubled Rey starts to leave and runs smack into his mother when the cell door opens.

 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Leia Organa censures Rey. 

 

“I was just leaving,” Rey averts her teary eyes.

 

“Well, you might as well stay now,” his irked mother decides.  Then, she turns to him.  Leia Organa looks him over with a frank look of disappointment and sighs.  “Ben, I always feared it would come to this.”  Unlike Rey, his mother clearly won’t shed a tear when he dies.  She looks more annoyed than sad.

 

“Did they decide?” Rey asks anxiously. 

 

“Sword.  Luke’s agreed to do it.  You’re off the hook.”

 

The answer makes Kylo smirk.  Luke Skywalker wouldn’t fight his own father he barely knew, but apparently, he’s willing to execute his nephew he trained for years.

 

“This is a mistake!” Rey argues.  “He should have a trial at least!”

 

“There is no question of guilt,” his mother points out.  “The senior leadership has decided that Ben is too dangerous to let live.  Time is of the essence in their opinion.” And does his mother disagree with the decision?  Kylo isn’t sure.  Leia Organa looks resigned as she levels Rey a sorrowful look.  “I held out hope for so long, but I know my son is gone.  In time, you will realize that too.  Once you can look past your personal feelings on the matter.”   

 

Turning back to Kylo, his mother passes judgement.  “You have been to dead to me since you killed your father.   That was unforgivable for me.  And since you have refused Rey’s attempts at redemption, you have squandered your last chance at forgiveness from the others.  So, in some ways, Ben,” his mother rationalizes, “this is more your decision than it is ours.”

 

Whatever.  Maybe this ought to be a poignant family moment, but Kylo just rolls his eyes. 

 

And now, his uncle walks in.  It’s Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, flushed out from his hiding place and back playing official rebel mascot again.  Only this time, he’s not the fair-haired young knight.  Now, he postures as the grizzled wise warrior in his formal robes with his full beard.  Seeing him makes Kylo seethe with anger.  He lays a lot of blame on his uncle.

 

“It’s getting crowded in here,” Kylo snarls out his trademark sarcasm.

 

Luke ignores him and turns to Rey.   “You’re not supposed to be here.  I told you to stay away.”

 

“I was just leaving—”

 

“Luke, let her stay,” his mother intervenes. 

 

“I want her away from him.”

 

“And you’ll get your wish very soon,” Leia Organa points out. 

 

“He’s a bad influence on her.”

 

That comment makes Kylo even angrier.  “Are you here to say you’ve forgiven me?  To save my soul?” he demands of his uncle.

 

“No.  I can’t save you,” Luke answers quietly as he eyes him.   “Only you can save yourself, and you blew your chance.” 

 

“Because ‘let go of your hate’ didn't work again?” Kylo jeers back.  “Because I’m not Vader with a deathbed conversion?  If that’s what you’re expecting now, save your breath.”

 

Luke shakes his head slowly as he admits, “I failed you, Ben.  I’m sorry.”

 

Livid Kylo loses it and shouts back, “You failed everyone!  You and the Jedi Order have failed the galaxy once again!”  Killing him won’t advance the cause of balance, Kylo knows.  It will impede it.  But Luke Skywalker will never understand that.  He’s too trapped in the Jedi mindset that he was taught by Kenobi and Yoda.  Unable to see beyond the limitations of the bright line dogma that failed the Old Republic two generations ago.  But like a fool, his uncle keeps holding on.

 

“I won’t fight you.  Not with a sword or with words,” his uncle responds calmly.  He is the picture of Jedi zen.  And that too has Kylo incensed.  There’s nothing more frustrating than trying to argue with someone who won’t engage.

 

“How long do we have?” Rey interrupts.

 

His mother answers, “That’s really up to everyone in this room.”

 

“Then let’s get this over with,” Kylo announces.  “I hate long waits.”  He hates his family too.  Having this confrontation as prelude to his execution feels like torture before the kill.  “Let’s do this.”

 

Rey and his mother defer to Luke.  His uncle appears to deliberate.  He crosses his arms and pulls at his beard in a showy gesture of contemplation that grates.  “Under the circumstances, I think that’s wise,” Luke decides. 

 

“Good.  I’m ready now,” Kylo boasts.  He plans to march into his execution like the martyr for the Force that he firmly believes he is. 

 

“Do you want some time alone with your mother?” Luke asks.

 

“No.”  Hell no.   “I want time alone with Rey.”  Kylo’s mind is racing as he quickly formulates a plan on the fly.  It’s one part revenge against his uncle, and one part a last ditch play for balance in the long run.  But Kylo needs to speak to Rey alone to pull it off. 

 

His mother and his uncle exchange worried looks. 

 

His uncle answers. “I don’t think—“

 

But his mother cuts him off. “It’s her decision.  If Rey’s okay with it, then let them talk.   He can’t do any more damage now.”

 

Luke and his mother exchange another tense look, but his mother wins.  She always wins.  “Rey?”  Leia Organa raises her eyebrows questioningly.

 

“I’ll talk to him,” Rey agrees.

 

“Five minutes max,” Luke orders.  Then the Jedi and his twin leave the room. “I’ll be right outside,” Luke tells Rey with a warning look for them both.   

 

Then, the cell door shuts and he and Rey are alone.  Kylo is five minutes from his execution at the hands of his own kin.  All over the Force and politics.  It’s the same old Skywalker conflict repeated yet another generation.  And the girl now weeping openly before him is largely responsible for it.  Rey let him down in his own reality and apparently, she did something similar here, too.  Kylo calls her on it.

 

“You betrayed me.”  The rage behind those words is real, and it’s more for his own experience than for this World Between Worlds drama. 

 

“I . . . I . . . ”

 

“You betrayed me!” he accuses again.  

 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen—“ Rey wails.

 

“I forgive you,” Kylo lies and that unexpected magnanimity shuts her up.  He’s got her attention now.  Next, Kylo dangles the bait that he’s sure Rey will take.  She took it in his reality, after all.  “Listen to me.  Find your father.  He’s alive and hidden in the Unknown Regions.  That man who sold you on Jakku was not your father, Rey.”

 

“What??”  She looks shocked.  And confused.

 

“Your father needs your help.  He will call to you in the Force.  Heed the call and go to him.  Release him.  Do not be afraid,” Kylo instructs.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Don’t tell Luke.  He will stop you from going.  He will keep you from learning the truth.”

 

“Why?”  Rey isn’t following.  “Why would he do that?  And how do you know this?”  Yes, she’s definitely intrigued.  Perfect.  Unleashing the hidden Sith on his family is poetic revenge.  They think he’s bad?  Well, wait ‘til they meet the devil they don’t know.  Let’s hope this leftover Sith no one knew about is one badass Jedi-killing, Republic-hating motherfucker who will swoop in and shake shit up. 

 

Kylo stares Rey in the eye and urges her, “Join your father and reunite your family.   Don’t let Luke talk you out of it.  Don’t cheat yourself out of the truth because Luke is afraid.”

 

“Afraid of who?  Who is my father?” Rey demands.

 

“I cannot tell you,” Kylo sidesteps the question because he actually has no idea.  Fingers crossed he’s someone good and Dark, though.  “Rey, you need to find that out for yourself.”

 

“Is this true?  Is it really true that my father is alive?”

 

Kylo looks her in the eye and plays the manipulative Dark Master.  He intones in his most spooky, Sith-y, Snoke-y voice, “Yes . . . I have foreseen it.”

 

“You really were only trying to help me,” Rey chokes out her unhappy realization.  Because yes, she’s buying it.  Completely.  “You were being honest with me all along—”

 

“I have only ever wanted to help you,” Kylo says a truth from his own reality.  “There was a reason I wanted to keep you from Luke.  But it’s too late for that now.”  It’s too late for him and Rey.  Too late for the First Order.  But it’s not too late for that captive siren Sith in the Unknown Regions to reemerge and kick Luke Skywalker’s ass.  And, hopefully, bring a little balance back to the galaxy and act as some sort of mentor and family for Rey.  

 

“You need to get away from the Skywalkers and find your father,” Kylo urges.  “My mother and my uncle will only use you for their own aims.  Don’t be the young Jedi pawn they once wanted me to be.”

 

“Oh, what have I done?” horrified Rey moans.  She rushes up to him now to throw her arms about him.  And mad as he is, damn that feels good.  Kylo closes his eyes and relishes the moment.  He can’t reciprocate because he’s in cuffs.

 

That’s the cue for buzzkill Luke Skywalker to open the cell door and proclaim gruffly, “Time’s up.”

 

Kylo is now marched rather unceremoniously to his shabby, makeshift execution.  Really, he thinks as he casts his eyes about the paltry, ragtag bunch of Resistance officers and surviving New Republic officials, they ought to do better than this.  The First Order excels at military pageantry, and their specialty is executions.  No one kills its prisoners with more fanfare.  Kylo would get a much better send-off were he a traitor to his own kind than he is receiving here amidst his enemy.  This humiliation is just one more reason to haunt Uncle Luke in the Force, he decides.

 

With his mother and Rey looking on and his Jedi executioner at his side, Kylo is forced to listen to a summary of his crimes.  Blah, blah, blah Jedi Temple . . . Blah, blah, blah Starkiller Base . . .   Blah, blah, blah Crait . . .   Whatever.  Next, his uncle gives an irritating short speech about the eternal struggle of Light versus Darkness.  About the need to have compassion for those who fall from grace but to deal firmly with their excesses.  Somewhere looking on from the netherworld of the Force, Kylo hopes Darth Vader is kicking himself for having saved his son on the Death Star.  Because Luke Skywalker is far Darker than he lets on.  Kylo’s senses are finely attuned, and he can feel that on some level his hypocrite uncle is enjoying this vindication.

 

And that makes this scene even more annoying.  Because whatever Kylo was when he trained with Snoke, he has evolved past that now. He is so much more than merely Dark.  But these people don’t know that.  And if they did, they wouldn’t care.  They are so stuck in the past.  Trying again and again to recreate the idyllic Old Republic that was far better in theory than in practice.  Desperate to revive the fallen Jedi Order that failed everyone long ago. 

 

The ranking New Republic official now steps forward to announce that Supreme Leader Ren of the First Order, the erstwhile Ben Skywalker Organa Solo, has been sentenced to death.  And finally, the main event begins.  It looks like this is really happening, Kylo surmises.  He doesn’t spy any portal to leap back through to safety.  He’s about to be executed for real in this reality.  Does that mean he will die in his own reality?  Kylo isn’t sure.  Maybe he ought to be nervous or upset by that prospect, but he’s too damned disgusted by his uncle and his mother right now to muster those emotions.  Because yeah, he’s made some mistakes and his methods are far from pristine, but he is the change agent trying to move things forward for the Force.   To let the past die and the Jedi and Sith traditions fade away so a new era of balance can begin.  But these people stand between him and that goal.  And at least in this version of his life, they have won.

 

On the bright side, Kylo thinks, if he dies here now it will end his misery in real life, too.

 

Luke Skywalker fires up his sword.  It’s the green one he almost murdered him with years ago.  That’s fitting, Kylo thinks.  And now, it’s his turn to say a few choice words to his uncle.  Kylo makes sure he’s loud enough for ashen faced Rey to hear.  “What you do today does not matter.  You cannot kill Darkness.  It is eternal.”

 

“Maybe so.  But you, Ben, are not.”  For the first time, his uncle looks vaguely uncomfortable.  “I take no pleasure in this.   I want you to know that,” he says under his breath.  And if that’s a version of ‘this hurts me more than it hurts you,’ Kylo calls bullshit on that.

 

“Liar!   Yes, you do!  I know you do!   Because a part of you is Dark too!” Kylo accuses loudly.  He fixes Luke Skywalker with a hard look of warning.  “Remember, Uncle, there’s always a bigger fish.”

 

The Jedi ignores him.  “Kneel,” he instructs. 

 

“No,” Kylo flatly refuses.  He won’t die on his knees. 

 

“Fine” his uncle retorts as he drops to the classic Jedi ready position stance.  As if this is a duel and not an execution.

 

“Go ahead.  Strike me down.  You’re not a hero.  You’re a fool.”  The resentment drips from Kylo’s words.  “Rey will see that soon enough when she meets her father.”

 

“What father?” Luke blinks.

 

“There’s always a bigger fish,” Kylo smirks.

 

“Master Jedi?”  It’s the ranking New Republic official politely prodding Skywalker to hurry up with the killing blow.

 

Luke nods back his understanding.  Then he readies his blade. 

 

Kylo lifts his chin and looks down his long nose at his uncle.  He is the picture of Dark Side hauteur, unrepentant to the end.   Fuck these people, he thinks.  In any version of his life, Kylo owns who he is, mistakes and all.

 

“I’m sorry, Ben.   I am more sorry for this than you will ever know.”

 

And maybe in his own way, that statement is true.  But it’s no solace for Kylo.  He locks eyes with Rey as he answers grimly, “I’m sorry, too.”

 

His heart is pounding as the green blade flashes and everything goes black.

 

When Kylo opens his eyes, he’s back in Mustafar Castle.  Very much alive.  And very, very pissed.  He started out angry at Rey, then succumbed to months of near suicidal sadness, and now he’s back to being angry again.  Even in the World Between Worlds that faithless bitch betrays him.

 

How could Rey do this to him?  What the fuck was she thinking?   She has betrayed not just him, but the Empire by seeking her supposed father.  Kylo obsessively runs through all sorts of scenarios wherein Rey becomes his latest would-be usurper.   She and her Sith father will plot to steal his Empire to rule it for themselves.  It will kick off yet another bloody civil war that will tear the galaxy apart.  And who knows how that will end?

 

The more Kylo thinks through the possibilities, the more paranoid he becomes.  Would the First Order even follow him?   Kylo has his doubts.  What if the First Order elite decide to dump him in favor of Hux as their leader to fight Rey and the Sith?   Or what if the First Order simply sides with Rey and her father?   Hell, Rey might even cut a deal with Hux in some quick, bloodless coup and then Kylo’s cause will be lost.  Those fascist crazies will be in charge and Kylo’s galaxy-wide reforms and freedoms will be abandoned.   What’s worse, the Force will never be balanced and the cycle of war and galactic disorder will continue for yet another generation.   

 

Kylo seethes as he thinks of how things might play out.  Will the Sith seek to bargain with him with Rey as the prize?  Kylo refuses to be baited into that situation.  Rey betrayed him first.   He’ll be damned if he remains loyal to her now.  So if the Sith holds her hostage or threatens to kill her, Kylo won’t play along.   She made her choice.   She knew the risks.  They spoke about them many times. Kylo saved Rey once from Snoke and offered her everything. He’s not going to be a chump for her again.

 

His heart hardened, Kylo returns to Coruscant and resumes his routine.  This time he’s really moving on.  Just not with another woman.  Kylo decides to throw himself into work instead.  He needs to shore up his support among the First Order in case any of his fears for the future come true.  Truthfully, it’s as much for the galaxy as it is for himself.  For Kylo Ren is a Skywalker, so his ambition is always tied to altruism.  It’s never been just about him.  It’s why he would make a poor Sith even though he is plenty Dark.  Intentions matter, Kylo knows.  It’s why his uncle’s simplistic Jedi ethics failed miserably in the very nuanced, very complicated real world.

 

Several months later, when Kylo is well into his new charm offensive, he calls a meeting to announce plans to accelerate the new Death Star construction.  The news goes over well, as expected.  Kylo has been giving his military chiefs a big budget and lots of tasks to keep them busy.  That means there is a great deal to report on.    The meeting is well into its second hour when Kylo’s focus is broken by a ripple in the Force.  It’s like a tickle to his mind.  He stops midsentence and sucks in a breath.

 

“Rey.”  

 

He’s so shocked to sense her in the Force, that he speaks her name aloud.  All thoughts of construction timelines and weapons systems upgrades are instantly forgotten.  Kylo concentrates hard on one thing:  her. 

 

She’s back. 

 

Oh, fuck.  She’s back. 

 

His heart is pounding.  Kylo can’t decide if this is a dream come true or a nightmare about to unfold.  Have his prayers been answered or is he truly cursed?  Only time will tell now.

 

“Rey.” 

 

That Force signature is so distinctive.  It shines so bright like a beacon to his Dark soul.  Like it used to shine before she woke up with yellow eyes.  Rey feels like hope again.  Like Light.  And how can that be?  He is instantly suspicious. 

 

“Rey.” 

 

He’s at the large conference room window now.  Staring out at the Palace landing platform.  And that’s when he sees the flying saucer shape that always fills him with an uncomfortable mix of nostalgia and regret.   She’s circling to land in the _Falcon_.   She has come back to him like she said she would.

 

Kylo whirls to find his men all looking at him curiously, for they know whose name he keeps saying.  This is the same crew that he and Rey dueled in front of on top of a table a year ago.  No doubt that made quite an impression.

 

“Supreme Leader?”  It’s Hux.  The Chancellor is on his feet now, eyes wide and expression sharp.  “Is something wrong?”

 

Yes.

 

No.

 

Maybe. 

 

Probably.

 

Yes.  Of course, yes.  Who is he kidding??   What is he doing standing here gaping like a lovesick idiot??   This is an emergency. Kylo comes to his senses and starts barking orders to his high command who are conveniently already assembled in the room.

 

“Get every Palace guard down on the landing pad to surround that old freighter that is landing.  This is not a drill!”   He turns to the ranking admiral in attendance and instructs, “Put the entire Coruscant defense sector on alert and scramble the perimeter ships for a blockade.  Close all hyperspace lanes in and out immediately until I give the word.  Alert all commands in the Empire.”

 

“Are we being invaded?” Hux asks as he too moves to the window.

 

“Rey is back,” Kylo answers tersely, pointing to the _Falcon_.  “And she might not have come alone.”

 

“Did she stuff an army into that mid-size transport?” Hux raises an eyebrow.

 

“No,” Kylo shoots back as he heads fast for the door. “But she might have stuffed something far worse.”

 

Hux is jogging alongside him as he heads for the elevator. The Chancellor slips in behind him just as the door slides shut.  They are alone.

 

“Ren, what is this risk?” Hux demands. 

 

“This is the risk that kept Palpatine up at night.  The risk Snoke searched the Unknown Regions for.  It’s the risk that could bring down the First Order and start another war,” rattled Kylo spews out. 

 

“What is the risk?” Hux hisses impatiently.

 

“Her father.  The Sith Lord.”

 

Hux swears. 

 

“Precisely,” Kylo snaps back. 

 

“I thought we were done with Force sorcerers other than you.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

Hux swears again.

 

“Maybe you should stay inside,” Kylo eyes his Chancellor, “since you are half our government.  If he’s here, there will be a fight.”  Kylo is already flexing his right hand to warm up his sword grip.  He eyes his longtime nemesis without enthusiasm but dutifully observes, “One of us should live.”   He might hate Hux, but he owes it to his citizens to lead responsibly in a crisis.  He will shove his personal feelings aside when it comes to Hux and Rey, and do the right thing.  As Supreme Leader, Kylo has an Empire to protect.

 

“I worked for this Empire every bit as much as you did,” Hux takes umbrage.  “I’m no coward.”

 

“You’re no match for a Sith Lord either,” Kylo points out as he dashes out the opening elevator door and heads outside to the landing platform.  Yes, he can see the _Falcon_ settling down now.  Motioning to the pair of stormtroopers guarding the door to follow, Kylo heads for the ship that was his father’s pride and joy.

 

With each quick step, he summons his anger, stoking his power.   Whatever walks down that ramp, he’ll be ready for it.  But so far, all he senses is Rey.  Still, Sith Lords were notorious for cloaking their power.  Yoda met with Darth Sidious on a weekly basis for years and was none the wiser.  So, Kylo will not be lulled into lowering his defenses.  Besides, he’s still plenty angry with Rey. She has a lot to answer for.   On some level, the sheer gall of her coming back has him livid, even if the proof she lives is a relief.  

 

The _Falcon_ ’s repulso lifts switch off and the creaky old ship settles down hard with a loud clunk.  The exhaust jets exhale a cloud of steamy oxygen from the hyperdrive with an ominous hissing sound.  Into this vapory mist, the _Falcon_ ’s ramp begins to lower. 

 

Kylo watches from ten meters back.  For so many reasons, he is filled with dread.  It feels like his heart is pounding in his throat.  His blood is racing as his adrenaline kicks in.

 

Praetorians now fall in behind him and four squads of troopers run up to assist.  Kylo has a small army at his back as he reaches for his sword and lights it.  His men follow his lead and raise their weapons as well.    Then, they wait.

 

He sees the flash of mustard colored skirt, so vivid against the dirty grey freighter as backdrop.  Then Rey herself comes into view.  She looks like a princess in the expensive caped dress, her hair pulled back and her usual slick of red lipstick on.   As Kylo stares, his mind registers two important things instantly.  First, she’s not armed.  Second, her eyes no longer match her dress. 

 

For her part, Rey looks at him.  She looks at his sword.  Then she takes a small step back. 

 

Friend or foe?  Kylo can’t decide.  But the silence and the tension of their standoff is killing him.  A large part of him wants to turn off his sword and open his arms to welcome her.  But he knows he can’t do that.  Supreme Leader, do not get distracted.  He gives himself a silent pep talk.  For this reunion is much more than a meeting between estranged spouses.  And surely, the Sith will know his history with Rey and seek to use it against him.  Plus given all that has occurred between them, if today is a choice between his Empire and his marriage, Kylo chooses the Empire.


	37. chapter 37

“I’m p-pregnant?” Rey breathes out.  “How did this happen?” she wonders aloud, her voice cracking with distress.  Pregnancy had never been a concern after she took that birth control shot months ago.  The medics told her it was very effective, and Rey had been reassured . . . until now.  Then suddenly, a thought occurs to her.  Rey raises angry, accusing eyes to her father. 

 

“Don’t look at me,” Snoke is grinning ear to ear as he raises his hands in a chuckling denial.  “This Skywalker was created the old-fashioned way.”

 

“But we made sure to prevent this,” Rey wails out her utter dismay.   She’s panicking a little.

 

“Ah, there is your mistake, Daughter.  Do not try to subvert the Force.”

 

She wasn’t trying to subvert the Force.  She was trying not to get pregnant.  How did this happen?   And when?   Why wouldn’t the medics have told her about this when they treated her broken arm?  Rey’s mind is racing as she thinks back.  Could this baby had been conceived that last night together before she left Kylo?  If that’s the case, then it means this pregnancy is very, very new. 

 

“I’m not ready for this,” she gulps. 

 

“The Force thinks you are.”

 

“This has nothing to do with the Force!” Rey snaps.  She’s annoyed at Snoke’s gleeful, smug tone.  She shoots her father a hard look and contends again, “This has nothing to do with the Force!” 

 

“Don’t be silly.  Of course, it does.  The Force is life and this is a new life.  And you and my Apprentice are favorites of the Force.”  Snoke looks every bit the proud Sith grandpa as he muses, “With two Chosen Ones as parents, just imagine the possibilities.”  One look at his face tells Rey that his devious mind is working fast. 

 

“We prevented this,” she groans.  “This should never have happened.   Why would the Force do this?”

 

Here is another teachable moment, apparently.  “The Force does not explain itself.  That is for us to figure out.”  Snoke fixes her with a pointed look.   “Daughter, the Force has its aims, and your happiness and convenience are not necessarily relevant.”

 

“So I’m just some tool?” Rey demands, feeling outraged on behalf of women everywhere.  “Some pawn?  Some baby making vessel?”

 

Her father shrugs.  “Perhaps.”

 

“I resent that!”

 

“Go ahead.  It won’t change anything.” 

 

Rey is blinking fast now, her emotions rising to overwhelm her.  And that’s saying something for a long-repressed girl from Jakku.  Her distress must show because her prisoner Sith father softens his flippant tone even as he keeps up his tough love pep talk.  “The Force is not fair and it’s not your friend, Daughter.  It does not reward and punish in the conventional sense.  At best, you get some rough justice.  All that morality the Jedi projected on the Force was largely unnecessary.  The Force cares little for good and evil on an individual level.  It concerns itself with the bigger picture.  Overstep and, yes, the Force might put you in your place.  But for most things, the Force cares not what the average person does.”   Snoke points a finger at her now as he comes around to his point.   “But you, my dear, are different.  You are special.   You are a Chosen One.  An instrument of the Force.  And that has both benefits and drawbacks.”

 

Rey wipes at a stray tear that leaks out.  “I don’t know how I feel about this.”  And that’s not entirely true.  Her immediate reaction is pretty much to hate the idea of this baby.  But she doesn’t feel like she can say that out loud.  Because she’s not some hardship case single teenage mom dealing with a surprise pregnancy on her own.  She’s married to the Supreme Leader with all the credits, privileges, and protections that brings.  And risks, too.

 

“Take your time,” Snoke soothes.  “We have lots of time here on Mortis.”

 

Yeah . . . he’s right.  “Nothing happens here.  So maybe I should stay—“ Rey thinks out loud. 

 

“No, my dear.  That is not the solution.”  Snoke shakes his head in warning. 

 

“But if I’m here, it will be like—“

 

“No.  You must return to the real world so that baby can grow and develop normally.  So that it can be born like the Force intends.”  Snoke now repeats his initial advice.  “Do not try to subvert the Force.  You will regret it.”

 

Rey bites her lip.   Birth control has always been a medical issue in her mind.  She had never contemplated the Force intervening.  As if things weren’t complicated enough with Kylo already, this has to happen??   Or maybe . . .    A sneaking suspicion dawns.   Could her issues with Kylo be the reason this pregnancy happened?  Is the Force trying to keep them together?  Or did the Force know they were having issues and this baby was a way to make sure the Skywalkers live on if they break up?   Oh, great, Rey scowls.  Now she’s thinking like Snoke.  Seeing the invisible hand of the Force in everything like some crackpot conspiracy theorist.

 

“Go to your husband.  Tell my Apprentice the good news,” Snoke suggests as he pats her shoulder. 

 

“I’m not sure this is good news,” Rey confesses softly.  It certainly isn’t for her.  But how will Kylo react?   He built his Palace for a family and he once said he was okay with a baby.  But a child was a theoretical issue back then.   This . . . this is real.  This is now.  This changes everything.  Or does it?   Rey isn’t sure.   This is a lot to think about. 

 

“That boy loves you.   Far more than you know.”

 

“I’m not sure,” Rey admits to more uncertainty.  She and Kylo had that huge fight when he broke her arm.  They had only sort of made up after that.  Sneaking away in the night to seek out her father might just have killed their already very shaky relationship.  So, with a heavy heart, Rey whispers again, “I’m not sure . . . ”

 

“The baby will bring you together.  It gives you a common purpose.  You always wanted a family,” Snoke reminds her.  

 

“Yes, but not like this.  Not now.  Not yet.”  Babies were always a maybe someday sort of thing in the indefinite future.  And only if things improved a lot between her and Kylo beforehand.  They need a stable, loving, time tested marriage before they take this big step.

 

“Let it sink in,” Snoke counsels again.  “An unplanned pregnancy is not necessarily an unwanted one.  You can mull it over on the flight back to Coruscant.”

 

Whaaat?   Rey looks up in alarm.  “You’re kicking me out?”  So much for her fears that she is a hostage.  “Now??”

 

“Soon.  You must return to the real world soon.  So your baby can grow and develop normally.  So that it can be born.”   He smiles at her with indulgent sincerity.  “Rey, you will be an excellent mother.   This child is fortunate to have you.”

 

And that’s how a very troubled, very wary Rey finds herself firing up the _Millennium Falcon_ ’s engines for a return trip to Coruscant.

 

Snoke bids her goodbye with a fatherly kiss on the forehead. Then, he stands back with his hands on her shoulders and says, “Daughter, it has been my great pleasure to meet you.  Know that you are always welcome here at any time and for any reason.  Seek sanctuary here, if you need it.  A woman in your position will have enemies.   Do what you do best: survive.  Take it from an old, old man.  Sometimes surviving another day is winning.”

 

Rey nods.  She’s been around the First Order enough now to know how treacherous it is.  It is an especially tricky position to be the wife to the very unpopular Kylo Ren who carries the heir to his incipient dynasty. 

 

Snoke continues his grim advice.  “If you are in danger and cannot make it back here, take refuge in the Force.  There are other ways to hide in the Force.  Other portals to access it.  Only a Force user can follow you there.  You will be safe from all others.”

 

“Where?”

 

“In Lord Vader’s castle on Mustafar.  Have your husband take you there.  Also, in the Sith temple on Naboo.  It is located in the lake country on my old estate Palpatine stole.  Seek it out so you know where it is should you need it.“

 

Rey isn’t exactly sure what she’s supposed to seek out.  “So there are realms of the Force other than Mortis?”

 

“Yes. Those portals will take you into the cosmic Force.  Into different versions of life that might have been but never were.”

 

“Huh?”  Rey doesn’t understand.

 

“What you see through those portals is not real, but it can seem very real. Think of it as a set of possibilities the Force has rejected.  It can be fascinating fun, but do not allow it to distract you.   The portal’s main value will be as a refuge.”

 

“Okay.” Rey nods even though she still only half understands. 

 

“Daughter, be wary of those who will seek to use you.  And be protective of your son—“

 

“S-Son?”  She blinks.

 

“It’s a boy!” Snoke beams proudly.  “Did I forget to mention?  It is another Skywalker prince.”

 

“Oooh . . . ” Rey looks down and gulps.  This baby is getting very real, very fast.

 

“I will watch over you both the best I can.  But your most valiant protector will be your husband.  Reconcile with Kylo Ren and bring him to me.  Our family is strongest together.”

 

Rey gulps again.  There’s no way in Hell Kylo is ever showing up here, she knows. 

 

“Rey, my fierce daughter, take care and may the Force be with you.”

 

Rey nods and impulsively throws her arms around Snoke, surprising them both.  Then, she heads into the _Falcon_ and lifts off.  The ship rises into the Mortis atmosphere and suddenly she’s back in space drifting above the Zakuul system.  There’s no sign of the giant, metal rhombohedron floating in space that she saw originally.  The pathway to Mortis is gone.  Outside the cockpit window she only sees deep space.

 

Rey runs a check on all of the _Falcon_ ’s major systems as a precaution.  Then she plots a course to Coruscant and makes the jump.  As the Zakuul system fades into the undulating blue swirls of hyperspace, Rey sits back in the pilot seat and sighs.  She has three full days of flight time ahead of her to brood and to worry. 

 

Should she send Kylo a message?  Rey decides against it.  She’s already told him that she’s coming back.  And all her news is big news that is best delivered in person.    ‘Hey—Snoke is alive and I’m pregnant’ isn’t the sort of news you put in a message.  So she settles back in the lounge area of the _Falcon_ with a datapad.   She starts reading everything she can find about pregnancy.  It freaks her out.  It really freaks her out.  Especially the labor and delivery part.  Time for some news, Rey decides.  As a Senator, she likes to keep abreast of what’s happening in the galaxy.  And that’s when she almost drops the datapad. 

 

That date can’t be right.  Can it?

 

Rey keeps poking at the datapad convinced there must be some mistake with what she reads.  Because it appears like she has been gone awhile.  A very long while.  Over a year. 

 

Tossing the datapad aside to reboot, Rey heads back to the cockpit where she starts running through the _Falcon_ ’s various computer systems.   They all reveal the same thing:  somehow a whole year has passed since Rey left Kylo on Coruscant.

 

Snoke had told her that time stands still in his realm, but it continues everywhere else.  Did he know how long she had stayed?  Probably not, she judges, since Snoke himself has never physically ventured out of Mortis. 

 

As the reality of the situation sinks in, so do the implications.  Kylo hasn’t heard from her in over a year.  Does he think she’s dead?   Or that she has abandoned him?   Surely, he knows that she of all people would never desert someone.  Not after how she herself was abandoned.  

 

Rey reconsiders sending Kylo a message now.   But after being gone this long, what’s three more days?  The damage is done.   And how is sending a message out of the blue any better than showing up unannounced after all this time?  All it will do is give him time to get super mad, she fears. 

 

A lot can happen in a year, Rey knows, and that sends her back to retrieve her datapad to read up on a year’s worth of news headlines.  Is Kylo even in power still?   He is.  And he’s as unpopular as ever even if his big initiatives are really starting to show results.  Rey obsessively reads everything she can about Leader Ren from the past year.  There is a lot to catch up on.  But she keeps coming back to the same picture of him masked and seated on his throne from the most recent Empire Day she missed.  Oh Kylo, Rey thinks as she stares at the expressionless mask that hides a man whose face mirrors his every thought.  I never meant to be gone this long.   I will make this up to you.  She feels absolutely horrible that he might believe that she has abandoned him. 

 

Now that she’s off Mortis, Rey is back to living normally again.  And that has early pregnancy symptoms really kicking in.  Suddenly, Rey can be a little dizzy if she rises to her feet too fast.  She’s very thirsty and so, so tired.  She falls asleep in a bunk and wakes a full twelve hours later.   And she’s still tired.  So much so that she falls asleep again.  All in all, Rey sleeps nearly half the way back home.  But when she exits hyperspace into the Coruscant system and heads for the Palace, Rey is wide awake with nerves.  She’s also showered and fully dressed, complete with lipstick.  She’s hoping to appear just as Kylo remembers when she arrives for their reunion.  

 

But how do you apologize for disappearing on someone for so long without explanation?   It’s like she has ghosted on her marriage.  Even if it wasn’t intentional, the hurt from her absence is still real.  Moreover, Kylo had warned her repeatedly against seeking her father.  She doubts that he will have forgiven her that transgression under the circumstances.  And when he hears the news of who her father is?   Well, all bets are off.  Upon further reflection, Rey thinks that the baby news—while both shocking and daunting—is actually the easy part.  So as she activates the _Falcon_ ’s landing cycle, Rey girds herself for an ugly reckoning with her justifiably pissed off husband. 

 

Yes, he knows she’s here already.  Peeking out a window, Rey sees him striding across the landing platform.  His helmet is off, but his expression is foreboding.  Stay calm and don’t let things get too heated, she counsels herself.  Her emotive, Dark husband has a tendency to fly off the handle, she knows from experience.  With a deep, fortifying breath, Rey pulls back her shoulders, lifts up her chin, and walks down the ramp.

 

Her first thought when she sees Kylo is to run into his arms.  She’s glad to be home.  Until this very moment, she didn’t realize how much she had missed her husband.  She has so much to tell Kylo and they have a great deal to discuss—from Snoke to this surprise pregnancy to the Force.   But that all takes a back seat.  Because suddenly she longs to feel his arms around her and the tickle of his hair against her cheek. 

 

But that romantic reunion won’t be happening.  For one, Kylo meets her with a glower and a lit sword.   He shaved his beard, she notices absently as she takes in the full complement of praetorians and stormtroopers who assemble in the Supreme Leader’s wake.  From behind them a clutch of curious First Order officers spills onto the landing platform to gawk.  Everyone is clearly expecting a showdown and that makes Rey swallow hard.  She doesn’t want a public scene.  So she falters not more than a few steps past the _Falcon_ ’s ramp. 

 

Kylo stops now too. 

 

They stare at one another from ten meters apart.  Kylo is only outwardly cool.  Through the Force, Rey can tell that he is raging inside.  Kylo looks ready to shoot Force lightning . . . or worse. 

 

Rey takes a small step backwards.  Suddenly, she’s far less sure of herself.

 

“So.  You have returned.”   His words are clipped and spiteful.  He’s angry.   Like she feared. 

 

“Yes, that’s right.”  Rey flashes an awkward little smile that she hopes will endear.  She’s trying to tamp down the conflict.  But it’s hard when he’s already holding a lit sword. 

 

Kylo raises that sword now to eye level.  He stares her down over the sparking red blade.  “You think you can just walk back into this Palace and walk back into my life?”

 

Well, er . . . yes.   That was what she planned.  But Rey had no idea that a whole year had passed in the interim.  “I can explain—“

 

He cuts her off.  “When does the invasion start?   Is Sith Daddy about to drop out of hyperspace with a fleet while you delay me as a diversionary tactic?” 

 

As uncomprehending Rey blinks at these words, Kylo starts pacing around her.  Twirling his sword as he stalks her like prey.  The praetorians follow his lead to encircle them both in a wide perimeter.  Everywhere Rey looks, she sees guards and troopers with weapons drawn.  One false move and she’s a dead woman.   Suddenly, she regrets leaving her saber onboard. 

 

“Well??” Kylo jeers.  “Do I need to alert the high command?”

 

“No!  No, it’s not like that!”

 

“Why don’t I believe you?” Kylo snarls out his sarcasm. 

 

“It’s the truth!   Feel the truth in the Force,” she insists.   “Kylo, I come in peace—"

 

“The Sith knew how to lie and they did it well,” he counters.  He’s still pacing, spitting out his words as he glares at her.  “Did he teach you to lie so you could fool me?”

 

“No!”

 

“Is he on the ship?  Is he here now?”

 

“No!”   Flustered Rey starts spitting out information fast. “My father is captive in the Force.  Exiled in the Unknown Regions imprisoned in a metaphysical realm.”  Well, sort of.  Snoke can easily project his way out.  But that’s a detail for later when there are far fewer witnesses to overhear.  “You have nothing to fear from him!  Or from me.”    Rey stares at Kylo in disappointed dismay.  “I come in peace.  Kylo, I have come home . . . like I promised I would.”  But it’s a year later, and clearly her absence has caused a lot of hurt and raised deep suspicions.

 

“So, you found him?”

 

“Yes.  Look, we should talk in private.”   They don’t need the whole Palace listening as she explains that Snoke is still alive only he was never really Snoke.  That’s not a conversation that anyone other than she and Kylo need to have. 

 

But he’s is not going for it.  “We talk here. Now.”

 

“But—“

 

“NOW!” he roars.  Kylo halts to brandish his sword as he demands, “Where is he?   And who is he?”

 

Okay.  She’s going to have to do it his way.  So, Rey starts disclosing information freely, hoping to earn trust.  “I found him in the Zakuul system with the help of the Force.  But when I left, the entrance to his prison was gone.  I don’t know if it will be in the Zakuul system the next time around.  But it doesn’t matter.   He doesn’t live in a place.  You have to find him in the Force.” 

 

“That’s what he told you.   To find him in the Force,” Kylo remembers aloud. 

 

She nods.  “I dreamt of his realm first.   Like I dreamt of Luke’s island on Jakku.  Like I used to dream of you.”  Rey lifts pleading eyes to her husband as she admits, “It was the Force at work.   Kylo, it was destiny.”

 

He scowls back.  “It was a Sith Lord manipulating you.”

 

“You’ll never find him with drone ships and navigational probes.  He’s not on any star chart and never will be.  His realm exists outside of time and space.”

 

“How convenient.”

 

“Not really,” she counters, “because he wants to be found.  He was imprisoned by a Jedi Grandmaster who conspired with his Apprentice.  They locked him up in the Force thousands of years ago.  Kylo, he’s very lonely . . . but very wise.  He has so much to teach us.”

 

“I’ll bet.”

 

Rey ignores this sarcasm.  “His power is amazing!  He has made himself immortal in the Force.  He can create life in the Force and extend life far beyond its normal limits.  He can project himself in different disguises clear across the galaxy.  It’s how he figured out how to escape his prison. And—“

 

“Let me guess.  He can raise the dead.”  Kylo rolls his eyes and curls his lip. 

 

“Yes!”

 

“So . . . ” Kylo purrs.  He’s back to pacing again.  “You’ve been training with him all this time?”

 

“Yes.  He wants to help me.”

 

That sets Kylo off.  “You were MY Apprentice,” he growls.

 

“Until you quit on me as Master,” Rey retorts.  “You knew I didn’t want that!”   It’s still a sore point.  It’s part of why she left him in the first place.

 

“So, he’s your Master now?”

 

“We’re family.  He’s my father.”   She’s not going to apologize for finding her father.   She doesn’t regret that.   But she does regret that it has caused so much conflict and hurt.  

 

“You’re with him now, is that it?    You forsake me, your husband?  You are a traitor to the Empire?   Where you serve as Senator?”  Kylo goads her with rapid fire leading questions. 

 

“No!   It’s not like that.   He’s not our enemy.”

 

“He damn well isn’t my friend!” Kylo hollers back.  “What does he want?”

 

“He wants to balance the Force.”

 

Kylo smirks. “A Sith Lord who wants to balance the Force.  That’s a new one.”

 

“No, it’s not,” Rey points out.   “Darth Vader wanted to do it.”

 

“Leave Vader out of this!” Kylo hisses.

 

“He is part of this,” Rey shoots back.  “Your whole family is part of it.  So am I.”

 

“Why does he want to balance the Force?”

 

“It will release him from his prison.  Only someone who can use the Light Side and the Dark Side of the Force can undo what that Jedi Grandmaster and Sith Apprentice did years ago.”

 

“And so, he’s training you to balance the Force so you can free him?”

 

“Uhhhh . . . ”   Actually, Snoke thinks Kylo will be the one to free him.

 

“ANSWER ME!” Kylo rages as she hesitates.  “I see those eyes.  They’re not yellow anymore.  He’s been teaching you so you can free him and he can run amok in my Empire starting another civil war!”

 

“No!”

 

“Is that why you have returned?   As his sleeper agent?”

 

“No!”

 

“Then why are you here?”

 

“Because I said I would come back.”  The scavenger girl who waited years in vain on Jakku for her own faithless foster family will always honor her commitment to come back.   Because leaving people behind to wonder and doubt is something she refuses to do.  Rey lived that way far too long herself.  And she feels terribly guilty to find that she has unwittingly repeated that situation with Kylo.

 

“You left over a year ago.”

 

“Yeah,” Rey sighs, looking down and flushing with shame. “I know that now.  But I didn’t know it while I was gone.  Time has no meaning where my father lives.  Kylo, I had idea that I was gone this long.  It felt like a few days—maybe a week, at most.”

 

“It was a year!”

 

“I’m sorry!  You have to believe me—”

 

“It was a year!   A year in which I had no idea what happened to you!”  Kylo halts his pacing and shakes his head.  “You should not have come back.” 

 

Rey’s heart sinks.   This is going far worse than she had feared and she hasn’t even broached the really hard stuff yet.  She starts to plead.  “Don’t say that—please don’t be like this—put that sword away—“

 

“I warned you not to go near that guy.  And you did any way!”

 

“He’s my father!”   There was no way she could ignore a plea for help from her father.   Even when her father turns out to be Snoke plus a host of other notorious villains all rolled into one.  And, really, shouldn’t a Skywalker be able to understand that?  Luke Skywalker had compassion for Darth Vader, the most hated man in the galaxy, because he was his father. 

 

“He’s not your father!  That’s impossible!”

 

“It’s true!   I was created in the Force by him. Just like your grandfather.  That man who sold me on Jakku wasn’t my real father.”   With a deep breath, Rey says it out loud for the first time. “I am a child of the Force.”

 

In response, Kylo looks like he did on Starkiller Base when she snatched the sword from the snow.  Incredulous.  Impressed.  Horrified.  “A child of the Force,” he repeats softly.  Like perhaps he has misheard.

 

For the first time, it feels like something Rey says is getting through.   She steps forward towards Kylo, purposefully ignoring his deadly sword.  At this distance, she can talk in a normal voice now.  And that’s an improvement over calling to him from ten meters away.  From the very beginning, this reunion had the feel of a confrontation and not a conversation.  It set a very bad tone.  So again, Rey tries to calm things down.  She lowers her voice and softens her body language.

 

“Think about it. It explains so much.   I was just like the desert slave boy Anakin on Tatooine only the Jedi never found me.  Instead, I found a Jedi and Luke sent me away.  He knew.   Kylo, Luke knew,” she breathes out. “He knew that I would be as strong in the Dark as I was in the Light.  He compared us back then and he was right.  Luke said he’d seen this raw strength only once before and it was in you.   It scared him.  I scared him.  Like long ago, you scared him, too.”

 

“You’re a Chosen One,” Kylo repeats.  He’s processing what she’s saying, still staring at her.  

 

“Yes. Think about it!  I was the untrained prodigy like Anakin Skywalker podracing and killing battle droids as a kid.   Like the farmboy Luke Skywalker taking the impossible shot in the Death Star trench run.  Like you accidentally killing your classmates at the temple summoning a Dark power you didn’t know you had.   That was me all over again when I was desperate on the Starkiller when you got in my head.  And when I was alone in the woods swinging a lightsaber for the very first time against you who trained for years.   That wasn’t luck—“

 

“That was your Force,” he finishes. 

 

“Yes!”  Finally, he understands.  She repeats Snoke’s words now to underscore the point. “We are the favorites of the Force.  The agents of the Force.  Sent to balance the Force and usher in a new era of peace and order.   You and me.   You were right all along.   Kylo,” she half-whispers as she dares to walk even closer, “you were right all along.  You and I are destiny.”

 

She searches his handsome, intense face, so troubled in the moment.  She beseeches his hard, cold eyes that pin her down.  Does he believe her?   He has to believe her. 

 

He’s working his jaw in a way that subtlely reveals just how rattled he is.  Tearing his gaze from hers, Kylo looks away and orders, “Tell me about the Sith.”

 

Sensing she’s making headway, Rey relaxes and again approaches closer still.  The praetorian behind her follows.  He has a Force pike nearly at her back, but whatever.   Rey refuses to stop.  “He’s ancient.  Really ancient.  Over five thousand years old—“

 

“Five thousand years.  That’s pre-Bane,” Kylo interrupts, his eyes narrowing. “That’s the Old Sith Empire.”

 

Rey nods.  “Yes, he’s their Emperor.”

 

“What??”

 

“He was the Sith Emperor Vitiate.”

 

“Vitiate?   He’s Darth Vitiate?” Kylo hisses.   His face pales and he asks again as if he might have misheard.  “Darth Vitiate??  You’re sure?”

 

“Yes.  As well as a lot of other bad guys too,” Rey adds.  “My father projects himself out of his prison to live different lives.”

 

“He’s Vitiate, the Sith sorcerer?” Kylo gapes. “The man who used to drain the population of entire planets of their Force?”

 

“Er . . . I guess.  That sounds like him.”

 

Kylo’s eyes are huge.  “Vitiate the guy who confused his attackers by creating replicas of himself during combat who functioned independently?”

 

Rey considers.  “Yeah, maybe.  He is really good at projecting in the Force.”

 

“Vitiate the master of mind control who Force bonded with his guards and his agents lightyears away to destroy their free will?”

 

“Uh, yeah, well Force bonds are kind of a favorite tool of his,” she admits.

 

“You found that guy?   You found THAT guy and you think he’s not an enemy?  Are you kidding me??”

 

Kylo has it all wrong.  Rey frowns.  “He needs our help—“

 

“Like Hell he does!  You let that guy out of his prison and we’re all dead!  He created wars just to fuel his power off the death and destruction they caused. The Jedi thought he plotted to consume all life in the galaxy.”

 

“He’s mellowed,” Rey ventures weakly.  “I think he’s moved past that phase by now—“

 

“You think??”

 

“He’s learned a lot.  He is wiser now.”

 

“You stupid fool!” Kylo curls his lip at her.   “You’re not his daughter, you’re his pawn!”

 

“Maybe so. But you’re his pawn too,” Rey shoots back as she bristles.  After all, Kylo is a Chosen One created by Snoke too.  And he is Snoke’s unwitting Apprentice.  If anyone is the fool, it’s Kylo.  “It would be best if we spoke in private,” Rey grinds out.  “There is much more you need to know about my father—“

 

“Renounce him!   NOW!”   Kylo lifts his sword again.   But she’s far closer now so now it’s poised uncomfortably close to her neck.  Like it had been long ago in the Takodano woods.

 

But Rey stands her ground and tries not to flinch even as her eyes keep darting towards the unstable blade that is entirely too close.   “Put that thing away!” she orders.  

 

“Renounce him and I will let you will live,” Kylo responds, his face intense and his mouth a grim line.  “You only get to serve one Master, my wayward Apprentice.”

 

“He’s not my Master.  He’s my father—“

 

“You must choose.  Him or me.  Or have you already chosen?”

 

“I’m not his Apprentice!  You are his Apprentice!” she hisses.  “Kylo, you know my father far better than I do.   So put down your sword and let’s talk in private.”  She’s doing her best to stay reasonable in the face of his paranoid rage.   But it’s hard because he seems to be reacting more than listening.  It’s like he’s determined to believe the very worst of her.

 

“Say what you need to say and then choose.  Him or me, Rey.   Him or me!”

 

“Oh, this is so typical of you,” she lashes out, giving in to frustration.  “You pull out your sword and start making ultimatums.  It’s more of your ‘if you’re not with me, you're against me’ crap.”  This obsessive need for loyalty is how they ended up married in the first place, Rey recalls. 

 

“Well?”

 

“Look, we might have an even bigger problem,” Rey warns, thinking of her pregnancy.  Because that news is not going to go over well either, she fears.  Not when she’s been gone a year.  Her absence will raise a whole new set of issues there.

 

“What problem?”

 

“Put the sword away, okay?   I love you.  You love me.   Now, let’s drop the drama and talk in private.   We are on the same team.”

 

“So . . . you’re choosing me?”  Kylo looks and sounds hopeful.

 

“Sure.   Whatever.   Can we go inside now?  Put the sword away, okay?”

 

“Just say what you need to say,” Kylo orders, although he does lower the sword from her neck.  It’s still lit at his side, though.

 

Grateful for that progress, Rey presses for more.  “We should go inside—”

 

“Say it!”

 

“Alright.  Snoke is alive,” she drops her bombshell.  “Well, sort of alive,” she immediately back peddles.  “It’s complicated—"  

 

“Impossible.  I launched what was left of Snoke out the _Supremacy_ airlock.   He was in pieces.”

 

“Maybe so, but he didn’t die.  He couldn’t die.  He was never alive.  Snoke was a projection in the Force by my father.”

 

Kylo disagrees without hesitation.  “I was his Apprentice for years.  Snoke was as alive as we are now.   I’ve seen a projection in the Force, and Snoke was no projection.”

 

“Kylo, you saw Luke’s rudimentary first attempt.  Vitiate is a master at disguises in the Force.  He didn’t just fool you.  He fooled Sidious too.  And lots of other people.”

 

“You’re not making sense,” Kylo is dismissive.

 

“Vitiate is Snoke.  He was also some guy named Plagueis who taught Sidious.  He’s been all sorts of people throughout history.  Snoke was just his latest iteration.”

 

Kylo is unconvinced.  He raises an eyebrow. “He did all this from his prison in the Unknown Regions?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Forgive my skepticism.”

 

Rey nods.  “I didn’t believe it at first either.”

 

“Well, that settles it.   He’s definitely an enemy, if I killed him as Snoke.”

 

“No, that’s all wrong,” Rey objects.  “You completed your training.   He wanted you to kill Snoke.  In fact, he’s proud of you for killing Snoke.”

 

“Snoke wanted me to kill you, remember?”

 

“That was just an act.”

 

“Riiiight.   I guess it was all an act if he was a projection at the time,” Kylo points out.  He considers a moment now.  “So . . . he claims to be Plagueis, too?”

 

“Your great-grandfather,” Rey nods. 

 

“Sidious killed Plagueis.  He hacked him to death—“

 

“The night he was elected Chancellor,” Rey finishes. “Sidious killed a projection of his Master just like you killed a projection of your Master.”

 

Kylo shakes his head at her claims.  “These are lies.   Big, ridiculous ones.  Rey, how could you be so gullible?”   He shoots her a look of harsh reproach.   “And why the Hell did you think I would be this gullible too?”

 

“Fine!  You know what?   I’m done here.”  Rey loses her temper and throws up her hands.  She’s tired of his hostile skepticism.   “Think it over and cool down.  When you’re willing to listen, we can talk.”  She turns on heel to stride back to the _Falcon_ but three praetorians with Force pikes move to block her path. 

 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Kylo growls from behind. 

 

She glares back over her shoulder.  “Don’t try to stop me.   You’ll regret it.” 

 

“What was the bigger problem?” he retorts.  “You said there was a bigger problem.”

 

“Yeah, there is.”  Rey turns around to bark, “I think I’m pregnant.”

 

She’s supposed to reveal this news when they are alone.  Maybe in some cute surprise way.  Or at least with some excited, romantic lead up that ‘something wonderful has happened’ or another equally grandiose phrase.   But Rey has given up asking for a private conversation and she’s not feeling especially lovey dovey right now.    She resents Kylo’s disbelieving attitude and she’s offended by his threats and swordplay.

 

“I think I’m pregnant,” she repeats, hurling the words out with undisguised resentment. 

 

Kylo’s response is profane.  “Fuck.”

 

“Yeah, I wasn’t too excited either.”

 

“Fuuuck!”  Up flashes the sword again.  This time, right beneath her nose.  “Who’s the father, wife?” Kylo snarls. 

 

“Oh, come on!” Rey explodes.  “You gotta be kidding me!”  Enough with all this suspicion.  “You're the father, you asshole!”

 

“You’re gone an entire year, show up and announce you’re pregnant, and expect me to believe that’s my kid?”

 

“Of course, it is!   Time stands still on Mortis where my father lives.  I had no idea a whole year went by while I was gone.”

 

“You really are a piece of work,” Kylo accuses.   “Full of lies and excuses.   Trying to worm your way back into my good graces.  Was this fake pregnancy Daddy’s idea to make sure I don’t kill you?”

 

“No!”

 

“Oh, wait.  Next, you’re going to try telling me this is a child of the Force, right?”

 

“No,” she fumes.  “Actually, next I was going to tell you that this is an easy issue to resolve because the medics can do a blood test.  But fuck you because I don't think I want a kid.  Especially your kid!”

 

Kylo looks wounded for a second before he resumes his smirk.  “Have you thought all this through, Rey?   Because if your pretend daddy is my great-granddaddy, then we’re related and this kid is going to be some genetic freak—“

 

“There’s no blood relation.  It’s only in the Force.”

 

“Riiiight.  That makes perfect sense.”

 

Rey is done with his sarcasm.  “I’m leaving now.”  She turns on heel to march back to the _Falcon_.  Again, the burly armored praetorians block her path.

 

“You’re under arrest.”

 

“For getting pregnant?”  She whirls and raises an eyebrow.  “Or for leaving you?”

 

“For conspiring against me with your so-called father,” Kylo announces coldly.  He orders with a dismissive wave, “Take her away!”

 

The three praetorians nearest Rey rush her now.  But the Force never fails Rey when she needs it, especially after all the time she spent in Snoke’s tutelage.  She summons her power and with a wave of her hand, all three men are tossed high into the air with a mighty Force push.  But first, Rey grabs a pike from the nearest of the unlucky trio. 

 

She feels provoked and cornered.  Maybe she ought to just surrender and use her position as arrested wife to talk more with Kylo in private.  But if this homecoming is any indication, more talking won’t help anything.  And then, she will end up in a cell for nothing.  So while Rey might be influenced by Kylo’s and Snoke’s firm belief in destiny, she is also a self-reliant, independent girl who takes matters into her own hands.  Long before she had the Force, long before she had a husband and a father, Rey was saving herself.  It’s the reflexive mode she reverts to now. 

 

She whirls with the sparking electroshock weapon in hand, and instantly the war of words becomes a true brawl.  She rushes headlong after Kylo with a series of jabs and feints he once taught her.  He defends them easily, of course.  And now she and Kylo fall into attack and defense patterns they once performed with practice sabers. Thankfully, the praetorians and troopers are content to just to watch.  Rey’s goal is to escape, and for that she probably has to disarm Kylo to grab his weapon for herself.  For his part, Kylo mostly seems to be defending.  She suspects that his goal will be to distract her so he can knock her out with the Force.  He’ll probably want her as a prisoner for a hostage, she reasons.

 

Overall, the fight is a mismatch.  His sword is the far more lethal, if shorter, weapon.  But the pike has a longer reach.  It swings similar to her staff from Jakku, but it is very different from the lightsabers she has trained with.  Sabers are unbalanced with the weight all in the hilt, unlike the pike she uses that is heaviest on the far end.  That makes it an awkward swing.  Rey’s timing is off.  Again and again, she misses her mark or barely engages in time.  The pike is also too long for her, which makes it especially awkward.  There are several close calls before Kylo swings for her feet.  Rey leaps back but stumbles over her long dress and cape, now caught up in the blunt bottom end of the pike she is wielding.  Rey goes down hard and before she can scramble up, Kylo has his sword in her face, poised at her neck.

 

“You are beaten!” he rasps.  “Yield!”

 

Rey answers with an attempt at a Force push that Kylo blocks.

 

“Don’t make me destroy you,” he threatens with true menace.  His red sword tip is right under her nose.  “Yield!” he roars again.

 

Stubborn Rey refuses to capitulate.  She’s tired of being told what to do and how gullible she is.  But, to her horror, she starts to cry.  Silent tears run down her cheeks as she stares up at Kylo, her lips trembling.  “Has it really come to this?” she chokes out.   They love each other, and yet here they are in lethal combat.  They’ve always been combustible, but this is a new low of violence and mistrust. 

 

For a fleeting second, Rey thinks that Kylo might answer her.  But then he must think better of it.  He’s probably paranoid again that he’s being manipulated. 

 

“Traaaitor!” Kylo rages as he drives his sword deep into the pavement a hair’s breadth from her throat.  Cringing Rey squeezes her eyes shut and jerks away, fully expecting the worst.   “This is not what I wanted for us!  This is everything I ever wanted to avoid!” Kylo wails out in extreme anguish that matches her own in the moment.  “You were supposed to be loyal!  The one person who understood!  The one person who was on my side!”   His face is a mask of accusation and betrayal as he hollers over her sprawling on the ground.  “How you disappoint me,” Kylo finishes with withering contempt as he yanks back his blade and steps away.  He’s still looming tall over her as he decrees, “Get up and go!   Go to your father.  Tell him that I will fight him to the death to protect my Empire and my people.  I don’t care who he is or who he was.  He has met his match in me.”

 

“Kylo—“

 

“GO!   I will only spare you this once.  If you come back, I will kill you.”

 

“And the b-baby?” she sputters as she climbs to her feet. “What about the baby?”

 

“I don’t want it.   You don’t want it.  Get rid of it,” he orders. Then, he turns and walks away.

 

END PART THREE

 

More to come . . . 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story notes to come in a day or so.


	38. chapter 38--story notes to part 3

Hello and thanks for reading.  Here are some brief thoughts on Part 3.

 

So . . . that ending.  Our lovers are a mess again.  No one is happy and both feel wronged.  Frustrated?  I know I am.  But the push-pull of Reylo is its hook.  These two each have plenty of issues even if they want some of the same things.  It’s like a real-life relationship, only it’s set against the backdrop of the galaxy and the Force to up the stakes.  We’re all here for the drama, right?   And admit it, you all saw that fight coming.

 

Kylo’s attitude at Rey’s homecoming is understandable given the circumstances.   Kylo has reason to doubt people.  From his uncle trying to murder him in his sleep, to Hux and others actively plotting against him, to actual assassination attempts, Kylo is a man who trusts very few people for good reason.  Add to that situation his longstanding, well founded doubts about Rey’s commitment and Kylo’s needy nature, and you get a very paranoid guy.   Plus, she’s gone a year and shows up pregnant.  The homecoming scene pushes Kylo’s buttons—all along he has been determined that he and Rey not be enemies, but that’s where he now perceives things are heading.  It’s a personal and political crisis for him. While he sends Rey away (no _Son of Darkness_ solutions this time around), Kylo is now the one setting them up as enemies.  For once, he’s pushing her away.  Oh, and his big goal of balancing the Force now has a major downside risk.  Nothing’s easy, right? 

 

And Rey?  In Part 3, she defies Kylo to seek her father.  Finding a family is usually Rey’s true motivation in my stories.  Often that family takes the form of a marriage (and sometimes kids) with Kylo.  Rey doesn’t find her family so much as create a new one to fill that void.  But this is the first story in which Rey’s quest for a family is in conflict with Kylo.  And once again, Rey is a daughter figure/quasi-prisoner/student to Snoke the Reylo-shipper like in _Ghosts of the Past_. 

 

Finding family is something very important to Rey, and Kylo knows it.  It was the whole purpose of her life on Jakku before the Force, the Resistance, and Kylo Ren burst on the scene.  So her decision to seek her father is both understandable and somewhat predictable, even if Kylo doesn’t fully appreciate the risk.  In Part 3, Rey ultimately finds the family she has always wanted.  She has the wise, guiding father figure she has longed for, a husband who loves her, and a baby on the way.  But instead of being the magic secret to happiness, all that family drama is ruining her life.  Be careful what you wish for!

 

Putting the quest for a family aside, I have trouble wrapping my head around the rest of the Rey character.  What does she want?  Who is she at her core?  That’s difficult for me to answer based on what I’ve seen in the films.  So, I make it up.  I usually write Rey as a survivor, very pragmatic in her ad hoc approach to life.  She’s always emotionally and sometimes physically scarred from Jakku, with trust and commitment issues.  A girl reticent to accept and return the love she so desperately needs.  She might be independent but she craves belonging and security and that leads her into a toxic marriage to Kylo (the _Fulcrum_ stories) or to hang on to the periphery of the Resistance ( _Son of Darkness_ ) or to escape and disappear into a secret life with another man ( _The Chosen One_ ).  Rey is often as impulsive and as violent as Kylo, with at times just as much dubious moral authority behind her actions.  She’s as flawed a heroine as Kylo is a hero in stories like this one and _Son of Darkness_. 

 

This isn’t Disney, readers.  I don’t write role models. I write people trying to do the right thing, even if their perspective is not always conventionally morally pure.  Rey always wants to make the best choice amid her options.  Kylo always thinks he’s the wronged, misunderstood hero.  And that’s what I believe makes them engaging characters we want to root for.

 

I personally like Rey having flaws and fears.  I’m not sure we will get any of that in the films, but I hope we do.  Seeing a character struggle and doubt (maybe even fail or make the wrong decision) is a good thing.  So I like to knock Rey off her Mary Sue pedestal a bit, and I always dress her up to get her out of her comfort zone.   More than anything, Rey strikes me as a character searching for identity and meaning.   She leaves behind the life she has built on Jakku and the hope of a reunion with her family, and now what?  Lots of young women are adrift in their early twenties. Trying on new boyfriends, new jobs, and new cities as they wander into adulthood. You’re still very impressionable at that age. Figuring out what you want.   I envision hayseed Rey—who for all her street smarts and abilities is rather unsophisticated and uncredentialed—floundering a bit.  She gets by on her own on Dantooine in this fic.  But she’s not doing much of anything until Kylo swoops in. They reunite and suddenly things start happening for them both because their relationship helps give each of them a new sense of purpose and support.   Kylo gives Rey a Senate position and the opportunity to shine.  Rey gets Kylo thinking in ways he hasn’t before. He’s seeking the Light and playing with holochrons.   These two are indeed far more powerful together than apart.  The trouble is that they can’t seem to get together and stay together.

 

Snoke is back.  That’s happened before in my stories, but this time the twist is that Snoke has an amplified backstory.  And this time Snoke might be immensely powerful, but he’s in jail.  Instead of being the controlling, angry mastermind swooping back in, Snoke is the one who needs help.  Readers of my other stories know that Snoke is always the Skywalker patriarch, whether it’s acknowledged or not.  He’s usually the scientific minded Darth Plaguies, but this time I took it a step further and tied him waaaay back to the ancient Sith Emperor Vitiate.  That idea came out of my foray into the Old Sith Empire in _DARKER_ and _Recalled to Life_ , each of which were set during the reign of Darth Vitiate as the Sith Emperor and ultimate big baddie.   The Snoke we meet in the sequel trilogy is the kinder, gentler, mellowed version of Vitiate from _DARKER_.

 

The SWTOR stuff can be a somewhat murky, but supposedly Vitiate is the illegitimate son of a Sith lord with a poor farmer's wife who worked on his estate.  The Sith lord ordered the mother to drown the child (born Tenebrae) but she secretly raised him.  Ultimately, her farmer husband learns the truth when the kid starts showing Force sensitivity, and he confronts his wife.  Tenebrae kills his stepfather/foster father defending his mother in that confrontation (he ultimately goes on to kill his mother too).  So, the backstory has a poor victim mother figure preyed upon by a Dark Lord and a mommy loving secret son with the Force.  The tale is very Skywalker, actually.  I like the idea of Vitiate essentially repeating the behavior of his Sith lord father when it comes time to preying on women to create Anakin and Rey. 

 

Vitiate is the ultimate Sith of the SWTOR universe.  And that’s saying something because that era of SW is extreme.  It’s like the SW you know and love, only on steroids.  The Sith are an entire warrior culture back then, not a duo of conspirators.   They are a much bigger threat to the Republic.  Honestly, Darth Sidious did his machinations, but the Republic seems to fall in the prequels mostly by collapsing from within.  Not so in the SWTOR era.  Ye Olde Sith show up to kick ass on Coruscant (and other worlds) and they start by burning the Jedi Temple, naturally.  Because they were the Sith and that’s how they do things.  Total war, people!   These Sith were merciless and ruthless.  If anyone was conflicted back then, they sure weren’t showing it.

 

Vitiate becomes a near ridiculous character amid the backdrop of all this outsized Dark Side raging because as the head evildoer, he has to outdo all the others. His wookiepeedia exploits are crazy and if only half that stuff is true, he’s hands down the worst despot of all time.   A sort of vampire of the Force, draining power and ideas from his friends and foes alike.   He becomes a full Sith Lord at age thirteen after he kills his birth father and seizes control of his homeworld.  For a while, he is a reclusive, self-taught Sith sorcerer type before he basically pulls off the ultimate coup d’etat and steals command of the Sith Empire.  After that, there’s no stopping the Dark prodigy Vitiate in his ascent to power.

 

I like to think that the guy has mellowed after five thousand years.  His interests have changed, he has learned a few lessons, and he has evolved in mindset and power.  Incidentally, all of the references Snoke and Kylo make to Vitiate’s actions are canon except for Vitiate’s ill-fated love affair (which is blue envelopes canon from _DARKER_ , even if it’s not real canon). 

 

Rey is a Chosen One, a child of the Force, in this story.  I’ve given her several different backstories in my fics, but this is a first for me.  I wanted to explain Rey’s natural proclivity to be drawn to Darkness, whether that’s being drawn to Kylo Ren or being drawn to the Dark Side on Ahch-To.  As a SW fan, I’m always trying to give meaning to little things in the films, so that I write a cohesive in-universe story that fleshes out the reader’s understanding of the films.  I’m the author who felt the need to explain how Maz Kanata got the Skywalker saber in _Son of Darkness_ , after all.  It’s not that I think that the films have to explain everything, but that huge coincidences need some exposition in my mind, or they run the risk of looking too convenient, too contrived.  But no matter how in-universe I write, my stories are not canon.  I’m not trying to predict how Lucasfilm will write the next movie.

 

In Part 3, Rey is off searching for Sith Daddy and bonding with him.  What is Kylo up to?   Well, moping and raging, as usual.  But that can get repetitive and tedious to write—especially when you know there will be plenty of moping and raging to come in Part 4.  And who wants to read a complete downer fic?   So I sent Kylo back to the World Between Worlds in his chapters.  It’s goofy escapist fun.  Honestly, that hack is catnip to me as a writer.  I can imagine any number of drama-filled scenarios and indulge them without the pesky issues of setting them up, explaining, or resolving them.  This is good because I’ve been known to write plot points just because I am charmed by an idea, and then I’m stuck with a rambling mess to write around.  For example, _Ghosts of the Past_ has Luke Skywalker show up on Jakku just so I could have him say “I’m Luke Skywalker and I’m here to rescue you” to Kylo’s secret girlfriend Rey.  Fun, right?  But then, I had to send Rey to the Resistance and the lovers were on opposite sides of the war and I wasted a lot of ink on that side drama.  All so that Luke could say his line.   Anyhow, the World Between Worlds allows me to go crazy without commitment from a story prospective.  It lets me write a series of one-shot mini-melodramas.  But enough of that for now.

 

The realm of Mortis is canon.  Yeah, you read that right.  Mortis is from a story arc in one of the later seasons of the _Clone Wars_ cartoon.  It’s a trippy, deliberately vague, ridiculously heavy handed and yet still befuddling fable of archetypes.  Basically, on Mortis dwells the Father, his Dark Side Son, and Light Side Daughter. The Father keeps the balance of the Force between the two kids.  The Daughter sacrifices herself to save the Father from the Son (sacrifice being a very SW theme).  Anakin, Kenobi, and Ahsoka show up and have some adventures trying to figure out what it all means and what’s going on.  In the process, Anakin sees his future as the Chosen One.  Of course, he conveniently forgets afterwards.  But it’s all foreshadowed because the Force knows what is coming. 

 

In some ways, the _Clone Wars_ Mortis episodes suggest that there was no way Anakin could avoid his fate.  And that’s very much in keeping with a theme that runs throughout several of my stories ( _Son of Darkness, Tied on a String_ especially) about how Force-users, particularly Skywalkers, have surprisingly limited choices in life.  The Force is a blessing, but mostly a curse.  You are so powerful, and yet you are also powerless in some important ways.  Kylo has a long lament in _Tied on a String_ about how he wishes he were an ordinary man so he could live an ordinary life.  And, of course, in that story he ultimately does go on to live as an ordinary man . . . for a time.  Having the Force does not make you happy and it does not ensure success, and Rey and Kylo learn that lesson again and again in my stories.  It’s a little like being rich in real life.  Does it make some things easier?  Absolutely.  But it comes with its own set of problems, too.  Growing up, my parents worried a great deal about money.  Money was constantly in short supply and it limited a lot of choices we had.  So, I thought that money would solve things.  Fast forward to me as an adult woman and I know now that money just changes things.  It doesn’t insulate you from hurt, conflict, or pain. 

 

In canon, Mortis does indeed look like some giant Xmas ornament in space.  You get sent there by the Force—you can’t actually find it.  And when you are there, time is confused.  On the cartoon, time passes in Mortis but not in the outside world.  In my story, I flipped that around and had time stand still in Mortis while it passes elsewhere outside.   Why is it called Mortis, or death?  I have no idea.  But I like to think that Snoke’s prison is something like a living death since time is suspended.  It’s a Hellish sort of Garden of Eden for our captive Sith.  And that’s in keeping with my _Tied on a String_ version of zombie undead Snoke’s country estate on Naboo.  Darth Malgus of DARKER is also a Sith who surrounds himself with gardens and animals (a Sith Lord with pets!) so he can be closer to the Force.

 

As mentioned in prior notes, in various canon sources Darth Sidious is looking for something in the Unknown Regions.  In my story, he’s looking for Mortis. 

 

Revan gets a big shout out in Part 3.  Revan is the chief SWTOR protagonist—the masked Jedi (chew on that idea for a moment) who wears a Mandalorian (!!) helmet of his enemy.   Revan is everything rebellious Anakin Skywalker should have been.  Headstrong but principled.  Powerful but flawed.  Well-intentioned but naive.  Note:  Revan is no emo-Kylo.  And that’s what makes him so dangerous to the Jedi Order.  He’s no kneejerk type.  Revan is a thinking man who rebels with as much reason as he does emotion.  Most importantly, the enduring drama of Revan is that (1) he goes Dark in order to do good and (2) his motivations are truly selfless.   Revan blurs all the lines and upends the Jedi orthodoxy, earning himself a slew of enemies and three hundred years in tormented stasis as a prisoner of the obsessed Vitiate. I love how Revan and Vitiate were the frenemy bromance of SWTOR.  Those two men admired one another even as they hated each other for the threat they posed.  It says something about Revan that Vitiate wanted him for an ally.  When your enemy would rather turn you to their side than destroy you, it’s a sign of respect.

 

I know where this story is going in broad strokes, but I don’t know how to get there yet.  So bear with me as I take time to plot it out.  My goal is the same as always:  to write an engaging story that keeps you reading with multiple characters all working towards their separate goals but interacting with each other along the way.  Stories should build momentum and depth as characters make decisions, grow, and change.  Coming up:  Snoke projecting himself to help Rey as a Sith fairy godmother, Hux meddling (I do so love an uptight, Type A man), Kylo facing a real revolt, and a magical Force baby.

 

Life around my house is pretty heavy.  For a while now, it has felt like we are living crisis to crisis, but we have an especially big list of challenges currently.  All I can say is that eventually they will work out.  Things will get better in the long run, but in the coming months they will remain hard.  That means more surreptitious escapist writing on my phone for stress relief.  It probably also means irregular story updates.  But there is more to come, so please be patient with me. 

 

In the meantime, there is plenty of Reylo out there to enjoy.  And since I regularly get questions about my own stories, here is some organization to the current catalog, in case you are interested.

 

Sith Stories

_T_ _hese fics were written post TFA but pre-Rogue One.  They are about the tradition of Darkness and the consequences of Darkness. RIP lots of characters._

Fulcrum (the rise of Darth Ren)

Fulcrum Part Two (Darth Ren and Darth Plagueis rule the galaxy; Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed by this trashy fic.  It is a low point in my catalog.)

Fifth Wife (Darth Plagueis entraps his unsuspecting Jedi wife)

Red (Darth Sidious becomes the aggrieved Apprentice hellbent on revenge)

A New Hope (Darth Plagueis approaches Darth Vader to plot against Darth Sidious)

 

Standalone Reylo Stories

_These fics explore different versions of the Reylo characters, set in various contexts._

His Padawan (happy ending)

You Need a Teacher (unhappy ending)

Immune to the Light (bizarre ending)

Tied on a String (written post TLJ—my favorite ending)

Son of Darkness (written post TLJ)

 

SWTOR Inspired Stories

_Darth Vitiate, the ancient Sith Emperor and inveterate scheming mastermind, always gets his way.  He has foreseen it._

DARKER (the maverick Sith Darth Malgus discovers love and a whole lot more)

Recalled to Life  (the amnesiac Sith Darth Revan learns some ugly truths about the Jedi)

Versions of You

 

Epic Reylo

_Gone with the Wind in a galaxy far, far away.   A giant cast of characters and plotlines._

Ghosts of the Past

The Chosen One


	39. chapter 39

Trembling Rey picks herself off the ground of the Palace landing pad and stares at Kylo’s fast retreating form. 

 

_Come back!  Come back!_   

 

The words echo through her mind and almost come out her lips.  It’s a gut-wrenchingly vivid memory of another man she trusted who had walked away from her.   She’s not a little girl any longer.  She’s a capable, grown woman.  But some part of Rey will always be that little girl who was abandoned.  And though she knows the full truth of her past now, the old hurt remains.  Jakku is never far from the surface.  Moments like this bring it to the forefront.   For watching Kylo stride away in disgust, Rey is again unwanted.  Rejected.  Cast aside.   And it’s not just her this time, it’s their baby too. 

 

It is in this moment that Rey decides to keep the baby.   She will carry and birth and love this child because people are not disposable.  And because she will not abandon her child like she herself was abandoned.   

 

The troopers and praetorians left in Kylo’s wake stand their ground.  Rey can feel their censure in the Force as they glower at her from behind their masks.  Her eyes survey the almost fifty armed men before her and then find the clutch of First Order officers in the rear.  Standing in the far back nearest the Palace entrance is Army Hux.  He’s in his Chancellor robes, the one civilian present and the only person without a weapon drawn.  Even at this distance, his handsome features look very concerned. 

 

Rey retreats now.  The fight is over and now it’s time to flee.  With her adrenaline still racing, Rey bounds up the _Falcon_ ’s ramp to gun the engines and blast off.   Kylo isn’t going to make escape easy for her, Rey soon learns.  She is immediately embroiled in an enormous traffic jam in low orbit. Interplanetary travel is shut down and the hyperspace lanes are closed, meaning there are thousands of ships milling about all herded into the upper atmosphere by TIE fighters.  Rey refuses to join the group. She’s getting out of here.  Now before Kylo changes his mind.  

 

She expertly weaves the _Falcon_ through the nearly stationary ships to burst out of the clump at top speed.  Rey heads directly for the now empty main hyperspace lane entrance that is guarded by more TIEs and an adjacent bulk cruiser.  Rey is hailed repeatedly and ordered to desist.  She ignores the requests.  Instead, she busies herself diverting power to the _Falcon_ ’s front and aft shields.  Sure enough, a warning shot comes from ahead and then also from behind.  It’s all the excuse this fierce girl needs to open up her own barrage of laser fire.  Rey of Jakku has been known to shoot first.  But even when she doesn’t, she definitely shoots back.

 

And now, it’s a six-on-one dogfight as Rey races for the hyperspace lane.  Luckily, the TIEs underestimate both the clunky looking freighter and its pilot.  Rey weaves, spins, and barrel rolls her way to the hyperspace lane, firing away to nail three of the now eight pursuing First Order fighters.  The Force is with her as she thunders precariously close to the cruiser’s bridge to sail into position for a hasty jump to lightspeed. 

 

There isn’t time to plot a new course.  So, in a move Han Solo would approve of, Rey just selects the closest preprogrammed jump in the navicomputer and punches it.   Where she goes matters less than that she gets away.  Immediately, the Coruscant system fades into the blue streaks of hyperspace.

 

Rey exhales.  That was close. 

 

Where is she going?   She pokes at the navicomputer to discover.  And look—her destination is Naboo in the Mid Rim.  That’s perfect.  It’s comfortably within her remaining fuel range and it’s the system where Snoke had told her to seek out an old temple.  Rey decides that she will land there to refuel and figure out what to do next.  She resolves not to think about what happened with Kylo until she has a plan.  Because first things first—she needs to survive.  So, as usual, Rey buries her feelings deep.

 

But when four hours later she sets the _Falcon_ down at Naboo’s secondary spaceport, her ship is immediately surrounded and impounded by the local docking cops.  How was she found?   Hyperspace tracking.  Apparently, Kylo wants the _Falcon_ back.  In somewhat of a surprise move, Rey, however, is still free to go.  So, she scrounges her few belongings out of the ship—a bag of clothes with personal items plus some maxed-out credit cards, a datapad, and her lightsaber—then, Rey is marooned.  Left standing with her overstuffed bag as the First Order reclaims the ship Han Solo loved more than his son. 

 

What now? 

 

Irked Rey wanders briefly around the bustling spaceport before she hotwires an unattended landspeeder near a peripheral exit.  Time to go find this temple.  Using her datapad, Rey locates the former Palpatine estate, once used as the official Imperial retreat.  It’s now a free museum open to the public. Rey keys in the coordinates and sets off to find it.

 

The hour-long speeder ride gives her time to think.  She’s safe and she’s alone now.  For the first time, Rey begins to process all that has occurred.  Change happens fast and it has kept happening.  Three days ago, Rey would never have predicted that she’d be in her current predicament.  The love Kylo had for her seems to be gone.  She knew he would be angry and hurt, but she underestimated the depth of those feelings.   She also had no idea she would be gone an entire year.

 

Still, it feels so unfair.  Kylo hadn’t listened to her.  Admittedly, some of what she has to say is incredible.  The story of Snoke in his metaphysical Force prison projecting himself into the galaxy as a wide-ranging cast of characters is a bit farfetched.  But Kylo is no layman.  He knows enough lore of the Force to recognize that it works in mysterious, sometimes improbable, ways.  Still, Kylo hadn’t given her a chance.  He forced the conversation into a shouting match before witnesses while she was held at gunpoint.   Kylo himself had met her with a lit sword.  Told her she was a stupid fool and sent her away. 

 

He feels betrayed?   Well, she feels betrayed, too. 

 

Where was the gentle man whose soft hands summoned the Light to heal her training injuries?   What happened to the persistent lover who seduced her with promises of constancy and words of endearment?   Where was the patient Dark Master who had taken his time with her training, never pressuring or rushing her?   Where was that man?  That is the Kylo Ren she loves. 

 

Instead, she came home to the snarling aggressively defensive brute from the Starkiller woods.   The paranoid, aggrieved hothead who solves every problem with a sword.   The estranged son who lit his saber through his father’s heart as his answer to the reconciliation pitch he refused.  This is the man who coerced her into the Senate by threatening to kill a child.  He is the cold, efficient killer who ordered the remaining Resistance fighters lined up and shot.

 

She is a stupid fool, Rey decides.  But not for trusting her father.  She is a fool for falling in love with her very disappointing husband.

 

Through those few awkward Force bond interactions and then during their time on Coruscant, Rey had discovered different sides to Kylo Ren.   He was more than just the despot the galaxy fears.  He was a dreamer and a reformer and a teacher and a friend.  Then, he was a lover and a husband. And now?   Now, he is back to being his old self.  His true character is revealed.  But it was never a secret, Rey ruefully admits.  She knew all along who this man was, even if she convinced herself he would be different with her.

 

And now, she’s alone and pregnant.  She’s Kylo’s grandmother all over again, Rey realizes sullenly.  And that’s when finally she bursts into a torrent of tears.   It takes a lot for Rey of Jakku to surrender to her emotions so fully.  But that’s how lost and beleaguered she now feels.  All of the stress and dismay of the confrontation with Kylo pours out of Rey in sobs. 

 

Two hours later, a newly composed, very red-eyed Rey arrives at the Naboo lake country.  It’s eerily familiar.  The lovely countryside strongly reminds Rey of the fragrant, flower filled grasslands and meadows she recalls from Snoke’s Mortis prison.  For these colorful storybook vistas are full of chirping birds and wandering butterflies.  Bursting with flora and fauna and the Force.  Honestly, it seems like the perfect setting for Snoke to have once owned a country villa.

 

When she arrives at the remote estate, the museum is empty.  The docent who welcomes Rey seems overjoyed to have a visitor.  We get maybe ten people a week this time of year, he confides, although the foot traffic picks up each year around Empire Day. 

 

The villa is gracious and elegant, with wide open-air colonnaded walkways and spectacular lake views.  The rambling building was built by a Muun financier before the Clone Wars, Rey learns.  Hego Damask was the head of the Banking Clan back then, the tour guide tells her.   Chairman Damask built the villa as a personal retreat halfway between Muunilinst and Coruscant.  Her guide now gestures to a portrait of a stately looking Muun dude dressed in the fussy fashion of the last century.  They called him the ‘Prince of Credits,’ the guide informs Rey.  He was the richest man in the galaxy back then.

 

What happened to him, Rey wants to know as she sizes up the public man who was the alter ego of Darth Plagueis the Wise.  Her guide reveals that answer to be a longstanding mystery.  Chairman Damask was a powerful man who was the victim of repeated assassination attempts.  He disappeared abruptly one day and was presumed dead, her docent says.  The man leans in to confide in a hushed voice:  they say the ghost of Chairman Damask occasionally haunts this place, but I’ve never seen him and I’ve been here five years next month.  The docent resumes his tour now, telling Rey that the Chairman’s good friend Sheev Palpatine acquired the villa from the estate.  Very few changes were made through the years, Rey is informed.  The villa today largely reflects its original historic character. 

 

The docent now excuses himself for a moment, leaving Rey standing in a sunny corner room alone with a repairman who is fixing a faulty door panel. He’s doing it all wrong, Rey notices but doesn't say anything.  But she smothers a smile as the workman swears when he burns his fingers on sparking wires.  It reminds Rey of Kylo attempting to hotwire a stolen speeder during happier days on Coruscant.

 

“That guy’s full of shit,” the repair guy gripes, glancing back over his shoulder to acknowledge Rey.  “There have been lots of changes around here since the Muun disappeared.”

 

“Yeah?” Rey asks absently, her mind on whether she can ask for a tour of the estate grounds to scope out the location for this hidden Sith temple. “Like what?”

 

“Like the Muun had a library full of ancient paperbound books that Palpatine moved to his palace.  And Hego Damask had much better taste in art than this stuff.”  The repair guy gestures over at some tall, narrow statuary on display and sniffs, “So heavy handed and obvious.  Utterly lacking in finesse.  Let’s hope he bought it cheap.”

 

The comment gets Rey’s attention.  She turns to survey the nondescript looking human man wearing a low-slung tool belt and work boots.  He’s not too old, not too young.  Not too tall, not too short.  Entirely average and unobjectionable save his unexpected strong opinions on art. 

 

“How are you, Daughter?” the man leans forward to ask in a stage whisper. 

 

“S-Snoke?” Rey gulps and squints.  “Is that you?”  Could it be?

 

The repair guy now favors Rey with a courtly bow.  “I was hoping our paths would cross here. So I could show you the temple.”

 

“Father, is it really you?” Rey asks, blinking at this latest disguise.  Her eyes involuntarily dart to the portrait of the stuffy looking Muun on the wall. 

 

Repair guy Snoke follows her gaze. “Yes.  And that’s me, too.”  With another courtly bow, the figure of the repairman morphs into the Muun financier from the portrait.  He’s as tall as a wookiee but with the grey skin and the long humanoid face of the galaxy’s renown race of financial wizards.  “Meet Chairman Hego Damask,” Snoke grins.

 

“Oh!” Rey breathes out in wonder.  Impulsively she runs into the open arms of this new projection in the Force.  Today of all days, Rey really needs a hug.  And for the life of her, she couldn’t tell the difference between this projected version of Snoke and a real person.  “Wow. You’re good.  You’re really good,” Rey marvels as she pulls back and lifts her face.  Everything about this projection, from the warmth of his body to the texture of his velvet robes, feels genuine. 

 

“I’ve had lots of practice,” towering Muun Snoke tells her as he literally pats her head.  “It’s all in the details.”  He takes in her red-rimmed eyes and frowns, “Things did not go well with my Apprentice, I take it?”

 

“How did you guess?”

 

“Your homecoming created a ripple in the Force.  And not in a good way,” Snoke observes dryly.

 

“It went horribly,” Rey admits in a choked half-whisper that sets her bottom lip trembling again.

 

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” Snoke sighs.  “But I see you have all your limbs and you weren’t choked.  That’s more than a few Skywalkers can claim after a family argument.  Come,” he bids Rey, tucking her arm possessively into the crook of his elbow.  “Walk with me and tell me all about it.”

 

And that’s the unfortunate moment when Rey’s tour guide returns to the room.  He starts yet another apology for his brief absence.  But the words die on the man’s lips as he takes in the impressive form of Hego Damask standing in the room.  The man yelps.  He thinks he’s seeing a ghost. 

 

“Oh my G-Gods,” her docent stutters.  The blood drains from his face as he backs up a few steps.

 

“Get out of my house,” Snoke responds with a menacing baritone.

 

The docent shrieks again and then runs from the room.  His fast pounding footsteps can be heard on the stone floors as he flees from the villa as ordered.

 

Rey dissolves into giggles.  The situation is just too ridiculous to contain her mirth.  And, oh, how it feels good to laugh after this awful day.

 

Snoke is chuckling now, too.  “I haunt my own house from time to time,” he confides.  “It relieves the boredom now and then.  I used to love to prank Sheev at his Palace.  He’d be giving some smug speech to Vader and I would just casually reveal myself at the very back of the room.  Whenever Vader turned around, I would disappear.  Vader would tell Sheev there was nothing there.”  Muun Snoke smirks at the memory.  “Sheev convinced himself that he was having Force visions.  I thought for certain he would eventually figure out that I was a projection.  But he never did.”  The former Darth Plagueis shakes his head in reproof.  “Sheev could be so pedantic.”

 

Rey’s mind is on her own predicament, not Darth Sidious.  “Kylo is furious,” she reveals.  “Father, he’s convinced you are back to steal his Empire.”

 

Muun Snoke nods his approval.  “I trained that boy well.  He has a strategic mind.”

 

“He wants me to get rid of the baby—”

 

“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” Muun Snoke looks scandalized.

 

“I won’t.  I want this baby.” Rey says the words out loud and they feel like a commitment.  But they also feel right.

 

Her father is clearly relieved.  “Good girl.  He will come around in time.”

 

Miserable Rey looks away.  “I don’t think so.  He is very angry.  He thinks I have betrayed him--”

 

“Nonsense.”

 

“He threw me out,” Rey continues her tale.  “And when I landed here, the cops took my ship—”

 

“Kylo Ren must still be conflicted over killing Han Solo,” Snoke observes, “because that ship is a piece of junk.”

 

“It’s all I had,” Rey protests.  “Now, I’m stuck here without any credits and I’m all alone and pregnant,” she laments as again her bottom lip starts to tremble.  Any second now, the tears will resume falling.

 

“There, there, my dear,” Snoke soothes.  “You are not alone.  You have me.  And I’m the Prince of Credits, remember?  I have enormous wealth tucked away here and there thanks to the miracles of compound interest.  Now, don’t fret.  My Apprentice will come around.  He will have a change of heart.  The Force will find a way.  It always does.”

 

“Do you really think so?  Have you foreseen it?” Rey asks hopefully as she wipes at one eye.

 

Snoke shrugs.  “Well, no.  But if he doesn’t, we can always depose him.”

 

“Whaat?  No!  I just swore to Kylo that we wouldn’t do that—” Rey hisses.

 

“Then, we can have your son depose him instead,” Snoke offers up an alternative.  “We can send a young Skywalker to confront an old one.  It’s a time-honored tradition by now,” he reasons.

 

“No!” Rey roars, surprising them both with her vehemence.  “The cycle of family killing family ends now!  Kylo and I are not enemies, no matter what he thinks.  And this kid will not be an instrument of revenge!”  Rey stamps her foot as she bellows out, “He is a gift from the Force.  Whether Kylo ever acknowledges him or not, our son will be a new hope for the galaxy!”

 

“Oh, you two truly are perfect for one another,” Snoke comments mildly at her impromptu shouted manifesto.  “So long as one of you gets around to balancing the Force eventually, count me in.  Team Skywalker ‘til the end,” he jokes.

 

“Oh, Father,” Rey deflates from her fierce stance and grandiose words.  Suddenly, she’s remembering that there is more than just her future and her son’s future at stake. “I don’t think Kylo will ever free you.  I’m sorry.  I’m so very sorry about that.  If I could free you I would--”

 

“Never you mind about me,” Snoke clucks like an old grandmother, “I’ll be fine.  I trust the Force and the Force doesn’t lie.  Now, permit me a peek.   Relax and let me see.”   And before Rey can think to object, Snoke is in her mind, rewinding her memories to review her confrontation with Kylo.  Having Snoke in her head doesn’t physically hurt.  But reliving the fight even in fast forward mode raises Rey’s emotions to fever pitch once again.   When Snoke finishes, she’s gasping with sobs. 

 

“There, there.” Snoke is downright cuddly today as he cups her cheek and gently dries her tears. 

 

“That was a lot easier than in your throne room,” Rey hiccups.  She shoots her father a sharp, questioning look.   Before when Snoke had read her mind, it had felt like he was ripping her brains out.

 

Her father merely shrugs.  “There was no permanent damage.  I had to make it look good so my Apprentice would champion you.   You should have seen his expression,” he reminisces.  “Like a hurt puppy.   And when I bonked you on the head with that saber, he winced.  He actually winced!  Ah, it was the perfect setup.  I knew then he would kill me for sure.”

 

“I resent that,” Rey sniffs.

 

“By all means, go ahead.”  Snoke never apologizes for anything, she’s noticed.  He just rationalizes it away.  “Know that I took no pleasure in harming you, my dear.  My goal was to manipulate my Apprentice into saving you by killing me.  It was time,” he judges sagely.  “Kylo Ren was ready to complete his training.”

 

Rey scowls.  She’s not in the mood for hearing about Kylo.

 

Perhaps perceiving this, Muun Snoke switches topics.  “Now for a name, I like anything but Luke.”

 

“I haven’t even confirmed that I’m actually pregnant yet,” Rey sighs.

 

“You are.  But we can have a medic droid say the words, if you wish.  We will get you checked out, find you a nice villa to rusticate in, and you can remain safely anonymous here on Naboo during your exile,” Snoke plots.

 

“That won’t work.  The First Order knows I’m here.  Remember—they took my ship?”

 

“Then we shall have to pretend to smuggle you off-world to throw them off the scent,” Snoke decides.  “I want you here on Naboo near my temple just in case the enemies of my Apprentice get delusions of grandeur.  Now then,” he ushers her out from his villa and towards her stolen speeder, “we have much to do.  But first, let’s make a quick stop at my temple.”

 

The temple entrance turns out to be a ramshackle broken door to a cave in a shady stand of trees.  It’s mostly hidden by overgrowth and moss.  For a Sith temple, Rey thinks it’s sort of a letdown.  Key these exact coordinates into your speeder, Snoke advises.  We will make sure that they are preprogrammed into any surface transport you have.  That way, you can get here fast.  Snoke surprises her when they don’t actually enter the Dark sacred space.  That’s for another day, he decides, telling her they have much to do first.

 

Next, Snoke in his repairman guise shows up at a local upscale residential real estate broker.  He rents a fully furnished luxury country villa sight unseen, paid entirely upfront thanks to a hefty credit transfer using his Clone Wars era Muunilinst bank account number.  “You will live like an Empress in exile,” Snoke decrees as they head to check out her new home.  “It is a good ruse.  If my usurper goes looking for you, he’ll send men to every mechanic shop and droid factory he can find.  He’ll never look for you living here like this.”

 

“Kylo already knows I’m on Naboo,” Rey reminds Snoke.

 

“No, he doesn’t,” Snoke retorts cryptically.  Then, as soon as they arrive at the rented villa, Snoke puts his shapeshifting Force projection talents to good use disguising himself as a decoy for Rey.  After a few attempts, he presents himself as her mirror image, complete with her distinctive mustard yellow dress and tight hair bun. 

 

“Not bad, not bad,” Rey commends as she circles him to look critically.  “I think you’ve got it this time because this is freaking me out.”

 

“Me too,” Snoke agrees.  “I’ve never projected myself as a woman before.   It’s . . . different.  But look here,” Snoke smooths his skirt over his belly showing an ever so slight bump.  “The holonet paparazzi would love this,” he laughs.  “Bump watch, the Palace edition!”

 

“Hey!   I don’t have that!”

 

“Not yet.  But you will.  It was a nice touch, I thought.”  Crossdressing Snoke now parades around the room, swinging his hips and looking generally ridiculous as he sashays around.   He’s having way too much fun projecting himself as her.

 

Rey is not amused.  “I do not walk like that.”

 

“You should.  If I were a woman, I would walk like this.”

 

“No one walks like that.  I certainly don’t walk like that.”

 

“I know.  You stormed my throne room in handcuffs like you owned the place.   All grim determination.  So irate with me and disappointed in Kylo Ren.  It was just perfect,” Snoke gushes.  And that’s not exactly how Rey recalls the moment.

 

“Don’t remind me,” she groans, feeling very silly to be talking ostensibly to herself.  Because this is weird.  This is very weird.  “Kylo is a disappointment.   I should have known it back then.”

 

“You know, it’s kind of fun to be a woman,” Rey Snoke grins.  “Now, you rest and go put your feet up while I spend an hour wandering around the spaceport until I get caught on every security camera at least twice.  Someone is sure to recognize you from the holonet and snap a picture.”

 

“Just stop walking like that, okay?”

 

But Snoke keeps up his hip-swinging strut.  “Eat your heart out, Kylo Ren,” he purrs, flashing Rey a come-hither look.

 

Rey facepalms and Snoke ignores it. 

 

“I’m going to slay every man I see,” he declares proudly, “before I board a public transport to Tatooine.”

 

Rey peeks out from between her fingers.  “Where’s that?”

 

“Outer Rim.  It’s a developed desert world, so it’s a place you might choose.   Even better, it’s the ancestral Skywalker home, and that will raise all sorts of issues for my angsty Apprentice to stew on.”  Gleeful Snoke runs appreciative hands over his female frame again.  “It’s so strange to have my very own busom,” he marvels.

 

“Stop touching me like that!”

 

“I’m not touching you.   I’m touching your projection.”

 

“Stop it!”

 

“Daughter, you are prim,” Rey Snoke laughs.

 

“Don’t call me daughter when you do that.  It makes it worse!” she hisses back. 

 

Irrepressible Snoke just smirks.  Then he wiggles his ass in an exaggerated fashion as he exits the room, calling, “See you in a few days,” over his shoulder as Rey fumes.

 

And thus begins Rey’s months of anonymous, quiet exile in the lap of luxury on Naboo.  Snoke returns after a week with tales of popping up all over the Rim projecting as her.  He’s delighted to reveal that he posed for a few selfies with tourists on Dantooine.  And sure enough, sightings of the heretofore absent high-profile young Senator start showing up on the holonet.  It revives a lot of old gossip and fuels much speculation, which Snoke loves.  There’s nothing he enjoys more than trolling his son-in-law/grandson Apprentice on her behalf.  He takes an evil glee in pranking Kylo Ren.

 

Rey and Snoke settle into a comfortable, slow routine living together as father and daughter, much as they did on Mortis.  Snoke teaches her the Force and continues his tales of the past.  Rey doesn’t do much of anything, which is good because pregnancy is surprisingly difficult.  She feels physically tired and sick all the time even though the medic droid Snoke bought assures her there is nothing wrong.  Still, her father must sense how close she is to depression because he keeps trying to cheer her up.

 

Snoke stays his Muun version mostly on Naboo.  But every now and then, he surprises Rey with a different disguise from his past.  So when Rey walks in on a guy with a manbun dressed as Luke Skywalker, she giggles.  “Turn around,” she demands, and Snoke obliges.  

 

“How do you like my Jedi Master self?”

 

Rey claps her hands.   “I love it!   Who are you?”

 

Snoke inclines his head in a courtly gesture and announces, “Jedi Master Syfo Dias, at your service.”  Snoke also turns out to be some a Mandalorian named Fenn Rau who tangled with the Rebellion and half a dozen other minor historical figures during various time periods. But when Rey googles them on the holonet, they all check out.

 

“You’ve been busy making trouble,” Rey accuses as she laughs.  “You can’t stand being out of the action for long, can you?” 

 

Snoke shrugs.  “Mortis is boring.  You, Daughter, are the best thing to happen to me since I last died,” he commends.  “You and my Apprentice definitely liven things up.”

 

“I think you should haunt Kylo,” Rey suggests bitterly.  She’s from Jakku and that means she’s not a forgive-and-forget kind of girl.   She is still very, very angry with Kylo Ren.  And as her new pregnancy sinks in, she is more and more offended at his reaction to her baby news.

 

“Haunting my Apprentice is an excellent idea,” Snoke muses aloud as he considers.  “An excellent idea, indeed.”  

 


	40. chapter 40

“FUCK!” Kylo slams his sword hard into the wall.  It’s a thud followed by a smoking hiss.  “FUCK!” he explodes out his rage as he swings again.

 

He had looked weak.  Fearful of Rey’s father.  Fearful that her preposterous stories could actually be true. Fearful of her effect on him.  Fearful that she really is pregnant and the child is not his. 

 

FUCK!  Kylo keeps swinging even though the wall is already a melting mess of molten slash marks.  He’s far from done. 

 

The most humiliating part is that at the end of their bitter confrontation, he couldn’t even bring himself to kill her.  But his final act of mercy wasn’t magnanimity.  It too was weakness.  For he could never kill Rey.  He’d rather kill himself.

 

FUCK!   He keeps swinging.  Only violence helps when he gets in these hopeless Dark moods. 

 

Now half the Palace knows that Snoke is supposedly alive and he’s the biggest, baddest Sith Lord who ever lived.  And his pregnant daughter is the former Resistance fighter with the Force who married Kylo Ren.   By now, they are probably laying odds in Canto Bight how soon he will get deposed.  The press will love it, too.  They hate him and always have.   

 

“FUCK!”  Kylo is so traumatized by that screaming match on the landing pad.  He can’t get it out of his head. 

 

The fantasy of Rey coming back had become a nightmare fast.  In its aftermath, Kylo doesn’t know what to think or how to feel.  All he knows is that he had the galaxy and the girl. But he lost her and he may soon lose his Empire too.  It is a catastrophic crash-and-burn for the young man who ruled the galaxy at age thirty.  History will judge him the worst Skywalker ever, and that’s saying something. 

 

“FUCK!”  He’s turned off his sword and now he’s kicking and punching the disintegrating wall.  Still venting his heartbreak and disillusionment.

 

He wasn’t enough for Rey.  His love wasn’t sufficient.  Neither was the life he could offer her.  Or the training he provided.  Or the Senate position he gave her.  It’s a complete rejection from the galaxy’s ultimate daddy’s girl.  And it’s so, so humiliating.

 

So why the Hell did she come back?   That’s the point that puzzles him.  Kylo can only conclude that it was either a nefarious attempt to embed herself at the highest level or she was sincere and telling the truth.  In which case, he has ruined things for no good reason.  And that’s a depressing thought.

 

He’s sweating and panting now from the exertion and his right glove is torn to shreds, revealing bloody smashed knuckles.  So, Kylo takes a break.  He leans against the opposite wall surveying his handiwork.  But it’s not long before he slides down the wall to end up glaring through tears at the visual representation of his frustration.

 

And that’s how a terrified looking young aide finds him.   The young woman must have drawn the short straw for this assignment.  As she salutes, she looks like she’s been sent to her execution.  Still, she keeps her eyes straight ahead, ignoring the wall and the Supreme Leader in tears on the floor as she reports news that the _Millennium Falcon_ has exited hyperspace at Naboo. 

 

“Take back the ship.  Let her go,” Kylo orders.  Maybe it’s petty, but he’s taking back the _Falcon_.  He wants its navigational data. 

 

“Shall we have her followed, Sir?”

 

“Don’t bother.”  He much less concerned that Rey will disappear than that she will come back.  And next time, she won’t come alone.

 

The young woman salutes and withdraws fast leaving Kylo to stew.  His immediate impulse is to head to Mustafar to seek his grandfather’s counsel.  But he dares not leave his capital world during this crisis.  It’s the wrong move for both political and military reasons.

 

Later that day, Kylo watches grimly out a window as the retrieved _Falcon_ touches down on the Palace landing pad.  He has his techs sift through the navicomputer to assess the ship’s recent flight plans.  Sure enough, Rey was telling the truth about the Zakuul system.  It makes Kylo wonder what else she was telling the truth about.  But then, he reminds himself that she betrayed him by seeking out her father. So it doesn’t really matter what she’s lying about.  Because she’s not trustworthy generally.  And he needs a wife he can rely on in all things. 

 

Kylo tries to ignore what happened and forget that Rey ever came back, but that’s not possible.  He lies awake at night reliving their confrontation, worrying he did the wrong thing.  What’s worse, over the next few days, there are public sightings of Rey all over the Rim.  Some come complete with convincing pictures that pass muster under even the best facial recognition technology.  It’s her alright, looking way too conspicuous.  Rey has made no attempt at disguise, and that tells Kylo there is more at work than meets the eye.   He’s just not sure what.  But he’s certain it’s a dupe of some kind, so he refuses to take the bait.  He won’t go chasing after Rey.  He’s no fool. 

 

Instead, Kylo prepares for war. The new Death Star project is further accelerated, as is a new mobile planetary shieldgate technology that will allow the First Order to blockade a planet by encasing it in a shield projected from space.  Half a dozen other secondary projects are also sped up.  In a reversal of his recent cuts to military spending, the sky is now the limit when it comes to equipping his armies.   The ongoing efforts to explore the Unknown Regions are now significantly scaled back.  Several key capital ships are even recalled to Coruscant.  Expanding his Empire can wait.  For now, Kylo is focused on defending it. 

 

The threat of Vitiate is as much personal as it is professional.  So Kylo recommits to his own training regimen.  He sets a grueling schedule of one hour of pre-dawn combat training and an hour after dinner.  His focus is on self-defense mostly because he knows that Vitiate won’t be felled with a sword.   When it comes to a duel with the Dark Lord, things will be decided by the Force.  And so, Kylo stays up late most nights studying the Force.  He becomes obsessed with increasing his power.  But can he out-Sith the greatest of all Sith Masters?   Kylo fears he cannot.   So his focus becomes the Light.  He will become a double threat.  Not merely a rival Dark Sider or an enemy Jedi, but something different altogether.  He’s going to fight with both Light and Dark, hoping that will give him the edge he needs to compensate for his lesser power.  He’s a Chosen One so combining both traditions ought to be more feasible for him than for others.   And if he figures out how to balance the Force in the process, then maybe he will go down in history as something more than a flash-in-the-pan wannabe Darth Sidious with his copycat Second Empire. 

 

To implement this strategy, Kylo hauls all of his grandfather’s holochrons back from Mustafar Castle along with all the other Jedi and Sith relics Vader amassed through the years.  Kylo piles it in Rey’s empty bedroom.  Collectively, it’s all the knowledge of the Force that remains other than what’s in his head.  Kylo puts to one side all the healing holochrons he has been working on, though those skills still get plenty of use as he mends his own training injuries and tends to his sore muscles.  Instead, Kylo spends hours learning Jedi combat techniques, especially battle meditation with non-Force sensitives.  He’s always been good at messing with peoples’ minds, so he learns to control an entire squad of troopers with the Force so that they fight as one with maximum efficiency.   It’s not an easy skill to master.  And he’s going to have to deploy more than six guys under his control to make a difference.  But it’s a start.  Once he gets good enough, Kylo plans to try controlling TIE pilots in space.   He aims to be able to coordinate his forces and invigorate them to withstand whatever Darth Vitiate throws at him.  Kylo vows that he won’t go down without a fight.

 

The secret to the Force is all in the connection, he recalls Snoke telling him.  Great power comes from a wellspring back to the source, his old Master had taught.  So Kylo endeavors to sharpen his overall mental Force acuity. He does even mundane tasks with the Force now.  Whether he waves a hand to open a door or to physically toss an intercepting TIE out of his path during a practice dogfight, the Force increasingly leaps to obey his command.  Kylo stops caring about connecting with the Force by means of emotion or peace.  He eschews all concerns about intent and motive.  Dark or Light doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that the Force obeys his command when he needs it.   Because when that ancient Sith Emperor shows up eventually, Kylo fears he will end up relying mostly on instinct. 

 

All this casual visible use of the Force makes people nervous.  It reminds them of their Leader’s otherness.   It gets worse when Kylo graduates to larger scale exercises in the field for battle meditation.  His commanders watch from afar, befuddled and intimidated.   For these men are deeply skeptical of the Force.  They are textbook soldiers who fail to see the larger picture.  The ebbs and flows of Dark and Light are beyond their ken.  They think in terms of warfare and politics in a vacuum, failing to see those conflicts as part of a larger cosmic drama that is only marginally within their control.  The fools are entirely ignorant of their own hubris, Kylo knows.  And they all believe he is vastly overestimating the threat of some renegade Sith Lord no one has ever met. 

 

The battle meditation in particular provokes a strong negative reaction.  His commanders gripe behind his back, worried that in time his mind control powers will be employed on more than just the rank and file but will extend to officers like themselves.   It fosters more discontent.  But whatever.  It’s actually earning Kylo more respect among the enlisted and conscripted personnel.  And in the end, when he saves the Empire and keeps peace and order, everyone will be thanking him. 

 

Still, Kylo can’t shake the feeling that he is being watched, and not just by his disapproving underlings.  Then, one day he’s striding through a hallway late for a meeting when he senses something.  It’s a presence he has not felt since . . . since Snoke?   Snoke!   Instantly, Kylo whirls and his sword leaps to his hand to ignite.  But there’s no one there.  His staff members all look confused until he warily turns off his sword and things resume without explanation. 

 

It happens again a week later.  Hux speaks up after a roomful of Senators watches Kylo startle and draw his sword once again.  “What was that?” his Chancellor demands afterwards in private. 

 

Sheepish Kylo averts his eyes.  “A tremor in the Force.  The last time I felt it was in the presence of my old Master.”

 

“Snoke is here?”  Hux is one of a few senior officials who knows as much as Kylo does about the threat of the hidden Sith.  Since the confrontation with Rey on the landing pad, he and Hux have an unspoken détente.  “So, it’s true?” the Chancellor demands, looking spooked.  “Snoke is alive?”

 

“No.  It was a false alarm.”   Kylo thinks . . . er . . . hopes. 

 

“Well, next time be sure before you look even more erratic, Supreme Leader.”  Hux shoots him a meaningful look.  “With all the rumors Rey’s reappearance has started, it would benefit you to look less defensive.  Ren, there are some who are asking hard questions about your temperament.   Paranoia does not inspire confidence.”   Hux stalks away, leaving Kylo to wonder if that was his snarky Chancellor’s version of a pep talk. 

 

The strange sensations continue to reoccur.  One night he’s trudging to his private office when the door opens to reveal Snoke seated in his chair, golden bathrobe and all.   But when Kylo blinks, the image is gone.   Had he imagined it?   Kylo isn’t sure. 

 

Another time, he marches out to his shuttle to find Snoke waiting arms crossed at the bottom of the ramp.  Or is he?   Because when Kylo does a double take, the figure is gone. And no one in the trail of staffers behind Kylo sees anything out of the ordinary. 

 

He’s not crazy.  He is overworked, overtired, and over stressed.  And lonely.  Very lonely.  But he’s not crazy.  This phantom menace haunting his Palace could well be Emperor Vitiate fucking with him.  Teasing him and testing him for an eventual strike.  The Sith did things like that.  They assessed your fear and used it against you.  It prompts Kylo to redouble his efforts.  And the next time he senses his old Master, Kylo shoots to his feet and hollers into the air, “Show yourself!”   He’s tired of this lurking bullshit.  He resents being toyed with.  So, yeah, he takes the bait. “Show yourself!”  But the Sith declines to appear.  Leaving Kylo frustrated and his staffers openly exchanging exasperated glances. 

 

From there on out, Kylo resolves to ignore it.  That strategy backfires, however, when it induces the Sith to pay him an actual visit.  It’s early morning and Kylo is well into his training workout when he hears a voice from behind.

 

“Apprentice.”

 

He knows that voice.  Kylo whirls and breathes out, “Snoke.” 

 

Sure enough, his old Master stands in the back of his training room.  Or the projection of his old Master.   Kylo isn’t sure which.   There’s no ghostly blue outline to suggest he’s a Force ghost.  No time warp oddity like Luke showing up looking like his younger self.  No telltale sign of discontinuity like the salty turf of Crait that Luke’s boots never touched.  This Snoke looks like Snoke always did.  And he is no flashing glimpse.  This time, he’s here to stay.

 

His old Master clearly enjoys his dismay. “Miss me?”

 

“Fuuuuck,” Kylo swears under his breath.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”  The wily Supreme Leader looks positively jovial now as he smirks and spreads his arms wide.  “As you can see, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.  But not,” Snoke grins, “as exaggerated as the reports that I was ever actually alive.”

 

Kylo just blinks as he continues to assess the situation.  For Snoke not only looks like he used to look, but he also feels like he always felt in the Force.  Somewhat lackluster.  Snoke never gave the impression of great Force power.  He formed the First Order and conquered the galaxy with a combination of strategy, wealth, and the Force.  But maybe that was a ruse as well. Because anyone who can project themselves across the galaxy at will like this must have enormous ability.  A few minutes of this trick had killed Luke Skywalker, Kylo recalls with a gulp.

 

Snoke gestures dismissively to the lit sword Kylo still holds in his right hand. He’s all criticism now.  “You’re still sloppy on the left.  You’ve always been sloppy on the left.  I could skewer you easily.  You would be so easy to kill,” his Master purrs out his diss. 

 

Is he here to throw shade?   Kylo isn’t interested in a pissing match.  “What do you want?” he demands warily, wondering if the duel to the death he has been anticipating will be happening now.   Is this the trash talk prelude to the fight that will decide the galaxy’s destiny and his fate as well?  Is there an invasion fleet coming out of hyperspace right now as they speak?

 

Snoke drops the irritating alpha dog posturing.  He crosses his arms and looks down his nose at his student.  His stern censure is palpable.  “I am displeased with your treatment of my daughter,” he rumbles.   “You are ungrateful of the many blessings bestowed on you.”

 

All this paternal outrage is a bit much, in Kylo’s opinion, given Snoke had once nearly executed Rey.  So, he raises an eyebrow in silent, sullen skepticism.

 

Snoke continues unabated:  “I gave you an Empire. Then you received my daughter’s hand in marriage and the promise of my grandson on the way. And yet you spurn them both. That was bad form, Apprentice,” he growls.  “Very bad form.”

 

Rey?   This is all about Rey?   Not about Kylo attempting to kill him and steal his Empire??  Now, Kylo is really confused.  Because aren’t the Sith all about power?

 

“In my day, there were Sith ladies who would have carved out your beating heart with a sword were they treated so shabbily in public.  You are fortunate that my daughter is so used to your puerile antics.   She may tolerate your excesses, Apprentice, but I will not.   You will not disrespect her again.”  

 

With that punchline, Snoke shoots lightning.  Ordinarily, Kylo would have been nailed hard by that barrage.  But his newly sharpened reflexes allow him to deflect it . . . barely. 

 

Oddly enough, Snoke seems pleased by that move.  “Good.  Goooood.  Your skills are improving.  But you’re still no challenge to me, boy.”

 

Yeah, that’s probably right, Kylo admits to himself.  So, he tries another tactic.  “Go away.”

 

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.  Alas, that is my predicament.  But still, I manage to go everywhere.  I’ll be dropping in to see you regularly now.”

 

Huh.  Well, presumably that means he’s going to live, Kylo decides.  It’s actually a positive admission, but Kylo doesn’t let on. “Are you done with the lecture?”

 

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Snoke assures him. Then, he gets downright chatty. “I like the Palace.  The throne room needs a bit more red, but all in all it’s quite satisfactory.   How are the holochrons coming?   Yes, yes, I know about them.   All your Light Side dabbling caught my attention.  My daughter says you have become quite adept.  You even look a bit Jedi these days.” Snoke shoots him some side eye with this comment. 

 

It prompts Kylo to raise a self-conscious hand to his long hair.  He shaved his beard and let his hair grow while Rey was gone. It’s now well past his shoulders, worn back in a low ponytail mullet that his mother would hate and his father would laugh at.

 

“Oh, never fear, I approve of your holochrons.  Now that you have mastered Darkness, I want you to embrace your inner conflict.   Be who you were born to be, Apprentice, so you can fulfill your destiny.”  Snoke points a clawed hand his direction.  “You have long known that I wanted you to be my new Vader. But what you don’t know is that Vader was supposed to be my new Revan.  That task falls to you now.”

 

“Revan?”  Again, Kylo raises an eyebrow.  “The guy Vitiate tortured for three hundred years?”

 

“Oh, Revan gave as good as he got, I assure you.  He was a remarkable foe.  I admired him greatly.”  Snoke looks him over now.  “You remind me of him in some ways. Only Revan had enormous emotional intelligence.   Whereas you are merely emotional.  But I still have high hopes for you.   The potential of your bloodline—my bloodline—is incredible.  I’m counting on you.”

 

The longer this perplexing interview goes on, the more Rey’s preposterous story about this guy seems sort of believable.   One thing is sure—Snoke is not dead.  Whoever or whatever Kylo sliced in half on the _Supremacy_ , it didn’t kill Snoke.  So Kylo asks directly:  “Who are you really?” 

 

The question provokes a sly smile.  “I am all things in the Force. Take your pick.  My aliases are many.”

 

“Show me Vitiate,” Kylo challenges.  “Rey claims you are Darth Vitiate.”

 

“As you wish.”   The figure of Snoke disappears and re-forms.  “Meet Carl Tenebrae, Dark Lord Vitiate, the Emperor of the Sith.”

 

Kylo blinks.  Oh, fuck.  It’s like looking at Luke Skywalker’s taller, broader brother.   If he wore gleaming black armor, a black velvet cloak lined in shiny grey silk, and an obnoxious smirk, that is. 

 

“There is a resemblance, no?”

 

Fuuuuck.   Just look at the sword.  Well, swords.  Because the man standing opposite Kylo wears two.  One at each hip.  At his right hand is a crossguard hilt very much like Kylo’s own.  But the sword at his left hand is a strange curved semicircle that looks like it will emit a scimitar blade.  Both are a gaudy scarlet red color that makes Kylo blink.  Seeing the weapons makes him instinctively raise his own sword now because just the look of this guy feels like a threat. 

 

“Go ahead,” the projection of Vitiate invites with a casual wave of his gloved hand.  “Strike me down.  I’m already more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”   He takes a step forward now as he warns, “You can’t kill me.  Don’t even bother trying again.”

 

“You underestimate my power,” Kylo retorts.   He’s been getting stronger.  He knows it.  And the Force is with him, he hopes.  The Force levels every playing field as far as Kylo is concerned.  It’s how Rey won in the Starkiller woods.  It’s how Luke Skywalker took the impossible Death Star shot.  Well, Kylo decides, he is the underdog hero in this matchup with the ultimate super villain of the universe.

 

“Careful. You’re way out of your league, Apprentice.  Marka Ragnos made me a Sith Lord at age thirteen. I was ruling the Sith at an age when you were still pledging to uphold the New Republic to your uncle.  Five thousand years later, my power has only grown.  So be careful.  Be very, very careful lest you wake one day to find Supreme Leader Snoke sitting on your throne.”

 

There it is. The threat to depose him.  Kylo knew that was coming.  

 

But now, Vitiate reverts to talking about Rey again.  “When you are ready to reconcile with my daughter and claim your son, you are welcome to do so.   But until then, they will remain under my protection.”

 

“Is that even my kid?” Kylo rasps out the question that keeps him up a night every bit as much as the threat of this man.

 

“Yes.”

 

“She was gone for a year!” Kylo hisses.

 

“In this reality, yes.  But not with me.  Come now, Kylo Ren.  You have walked through the flow of the Force.  You have been to the World Between Worlds.   You know that the Force can suspend time in different realities.”

 

That point hits home, but Kylo says nothing. 

 

“Any other questions?”  Vitiate’s face is the picture of patient condescension.  It grates. 

 

Kylo reverts back to the original question he asked.  “What do you want?”  

 

His foe sounds so reasonable in his response.  “I want to reunite my family and balance the Force.”

 

Yeah, right. Kylo hears these words and knows that they mean.  This guy wants to manipulate him as much as he now controls Rey. And he wants Kylo to set him free from his Force prison so he can once more wreak havoc on the galaxy.  Not a chance.  

 

When Kylo fails to reply, he receives another veiled threat.  “Kylo Ren, my patience has limits,” the figure of the Sith Emperor warns.   And then, he vanishes.  Leaving perplexed Kylo to stew some more. 

 


	41. chapter 41

On the days when Snoke is off pretending to be her, or haunting Kylo, or doing whatever he does when he’s away, Rey is alone.  She’s fine with that.  Rey actually needs more time alone than the average person.   The isolation of Jakku has left its mark.  Too much togetherness crowds her.  Kylo seemed to instinctively know this about her, thankfully.  Perhaps Snoke does too.

 

The alone time is good because these days her head is a mess of self-doubt, especially about the baby.   Rey blows hot and cold on her pregnancy.  Some days, she is excited.  Daydreaming about mothering her little boy.  Browsing the holonet for baby gear and baby clothes. Reading week by week descriptions of the baby’s development. Other days, she is fearful.  Worried that she will be a terrible parent.  Rey herself never had a parent and her upbringing was decidedly unorthodox.  More than anything, Rey wants to give her son a normal life with loving parents.  And that seems near impossible given the current circumstances. 

 

And then there are days when Rey is downright resentful.  Feeling burdened way too young by the responsibility of motherhood.  And to a magical Chosen One Skywalker baby at that.  She didn’t want this, not in this way and not at this time and not on her own without Kylo.  Yes, she’s not entirely on her own.  Snoke assures her that he will be a very involved grandfather.  But that too has Rey a bit alarmed.  Because every time Snoke refers to the baby his ‘littlest Apprentice,’ Rey gulps. 

 

She’s trying hard to do and say all the right things.  Telling herself that this baby is a miracle she should be grateful for.  But in the course of the same day, Rey can go from excitement to despair about her pregnancy.  It would be different if this were some happy adventure she and Kylo were embarking on together.  But this is a baby he told her to get rid of.  And, well, Rey would be lying if she said that solution hadn’t crossed her mind a few times in the initial days.  But the way Kylo had said it, and the context in which he had said it, had felt like a complete repudiation.  He was rejecting her and the baby too.   Reflexively, Rey had felt motivated to embrace her pregnancy just to spite him.   She went a bit overboard at times, she thinks.

 

Her enthusiasm has waxed and waned ever since, veering from one extreme to the other.  And maybe that’s the hormones, but accepting her new situation is hard.   Especially because as angry as Rey is at Kylo, she still misses him. And she wonders about him.   A lot. 

 

So when Snoke returns to tell her he did more than prank Kylo, this time he actually spoke to him, Rey is full of questions.   But she doesn’t want to look like she is full of questions.  She’s supposed to be angry.  Still, after Snoke prattles on about how he showed off his Sith Emperor self to Kylo, Rey can’t help herself.   She blurts out, “How is he?”

 

“He looks awful.”

 

“A-Awful??” Rey looks up in alarm. 

 

“Just terrible,” her father confirms. “Like he hasn’t slept in a week.  Like he’s miserable.   Like he’s barely holding it together.”

 

“M-Miserable??”  He’s miserable like she’s miserable?

 

“And the hair!”  Snoke rolls his eyes as he snickers like a mean teenaged girl.  “He has really let himself go.  He looks like he belongs in some throwback Corellian metal band.”

 

Rey scowls.   She doesn’t like Snoke’s gleeful hater tone. “How do you know about metal bands?” she gripes. 

 

Snoke feigns offense.  “I am a very worldly guy.  You'd be surprised, my dear, how wide ranging my tastes and knowledge are.  But ugh,” he disdains his Apprentice’s new look, “He reminds me of his scruffy looking criminal father.  A galactic Emperor should not look so disreputable.”

 

“He shaved his beard,” Rey recalls aloud from their ill-fated reunion.

 

“All he needs is some cheesy looking earring to go with that mullet.”

 

“He grew that beard so we could go out incognito like a normal couple,” Rey reminisces glumly.  “We used to roam around Coruscant in stolen speeders . . . ”

 

Snoke slants her a curious look.  Rey turns her face away as she blinks fast but says nothing. 

 

“What else did you do?” her father prods.

 

“Nothing much.  Once we went to a dive bar in the Underworld,” Rey remembers offhand.

 

“And that impressed you?”  Snoke raises a skeptical eyebrow.  “My Apprentice really knows how to treat a lady,” he lays on the sarcasm.  He shoots Rey a reproachful look.  “You are a Sith princess.  You’re not supposed to be such a cheap date.”

 

Rey recalls it differently. “Army took me to fancy parties, but Kylo just wanted to hang out.  I liked that about him.  He’s so low key.”

 

“He is not,” Snoke scoffs.   “He’s as intense as the rest of his clan.  If he hates parties, it’s because he’s a loner and always has been.”

 

It’s true. Rey nods.  “He used to mock my stash and drink my water,” she whispers now, “but he would always bring me more.”

 

“It was true love then,” Snoke declares with a smirk.  He ignores her responding glare.  “How many closets have you filled up here with water and snacks?”

 

“Hey!  I’m hoarding for two now,” Rey points out. 

 

“Then hoard some diapers while you’re at it,” her father suggests.  “Because the child will need those long before he starts eating your protein bars and using those fusion batteries.”

 

“What do you know about babies?” Rey complains.   As always, she’s defensive about her survival stash.

 

“More than you do,” her father points out.  “I raised three kids when I was the Eternal Emperor of Zakuul. With their psycho bitch mother.  That didn’t turn out well,” Snoke grumbles as he shakes his head. “Not my best years,” he adds defensively.  Her father quickly reverts back to the present.  “Perhaps I should haunt Kylo Ren as you next time,” Snoke muses. “That might be fun.”

 

“No!”  Rey is vehement. 

 

“It would get his attention.  I can show up with some water bottles.  It will be like old times—“

 

“No!” Rey doesn’t want Snoke’s version of herself wiggling her ass in Kylo’s face.

 

“Maybe he’ll take me for a date in a stolen speeder—“

 

“No!  I forbid it!”

 

Then, Snoke says something that throws Rey for a loop.  “He asked about the baby.”

 

“He did??  I mean, whatever.”  Rey looks away again, flustered. 

 

“Yes, he asked about the baby and I explained that it is his.”

 

Then before she can stop herself, Rey demands hopefully, “Did he ask about me?” 

 

Snoke sidesteps the question.  Instead, he gently proposes, “Daughter, would you like to see your husband?”

 

“No!”

 

“It might help you to see him,” Snoke prods.

 

“No!”  She doesn’t need Snoke acting as a go-between or marriage counselor. “No!”  She’s sounding like petulant child but whatever.  She’s not up to seeing Kylo any time soon.  It’s hard enough to watch him on the holonet.  Just the thought of an in-person meeting has her blood pressure rising.  

 

“As you wish,” Snoke defers.   Then he changes the subject.  “Come.  Let us go see the temple.  We are overdue for that.  It will get you out of the house,” Snoke suggests.  “A change of scenery might do you some good.”

 

Rey agrees and they take a speeder back to the temple on Snoke’s old estate.  In the bright morning sunlight, the weather darkened stone entrance looks ancient.  And heavy.  But Snoke easily opens the door with the Force.  He offers Rey his arm as together they step inside.   Behind the doorway is an antechamber and behind that is a steep stone stairway leading down into the temple proper.  From there, the temple becomes a twisting maze of corridors that all look the same to Rey’s eyes.  

 

“Always turns left.   That’s all you need to remember,” Snoke tells her as he leads the way.  

 

Inside the temple is dimly lit with recessed red lighting.  It takes a moment for Rey’s eyes to adjust to the pervasive gloom. Unfamiliar writing covers all visible walls and other surfaces.  Looking at it blankly, Rey wonders what the inscriptions mean.

 

“That is Kittat, the ancient language of the Sith.  I made my Apprentice learn it.  I will teach it to you if you like,” Snoke offers.  

 

Rey squints into the darkness at the unfamiliar characters.  “What does it say?”

 

Her father surprises with his complete lack of reverence. “It’s a lot of self-congratulatory nonsense.”

 

They resume walking and Rey takes it all in silently.  How do you describe this place?  It’s nothing like the Jedi temple Rey recalls from Ahch-To.  First of all, it’s huge and completely underground.  It has ancient engravings in an alien language, tall stone walls lit red, and places like a ritual chamber, a meditation room, and a holochron vault that Snoke points out as they pass.   “It’s very Sith,” Rey decides, for lack of better words.

 

“Actually, it’s not.  It is what you are meant to think the Sith were,” Snoke complains.   “All the post-Bane reformation years are a poor imitation of the original Sith Empire.  For one, we were never this austere.  Our temples were lavish.  We were a wealthy civilization that enjoyed luxury.  Yes, we wore black and we esteemed glory and conquest.  But we esteemed knowledge equally.  No one ever remembers that part,” he grouses.  “You’d think we were nihilistic dumb brutes from our historical depiction.  Truly, it is inaccurate.”

 

Snoke warms to this theme as they continue walking through the temple corridors, always turning left. “Those poseur reformed Sith became caricatures.   So obsessed with the Republic.  The Sith conquered many peoples.  The Republic didn’t even rank highest on the list.  Back then, the Republic was far smaller than in recent millennia.  The Core Worlds were not the locus of trade and prestige that they are now.  The seat of power for the galaxy was the current Unknown Regions.  They were not unknown back then, I assure you.”

 

Really?  “How did that knowledge get lost?”  Rey wonders aloud.

 

Snoke harrumphs.  “When you are as old as I am and you have seen civilizations rise and fall, you learn that knowledge can be found and then lost.  Wars, migrations, famine, and innovation all take their toll. So too politics and religion can suppress ideas and restrict research and discovery.”

 

“There is a certain arrogance to the present in assuming that you have evolved from the past.  That you are smarter, more sophisticated, and better informed than your forebearers.  I could list you out worlds that are worse off now than they were five thousand years ago.  But that is the ebb and flow of history.  Everyone always hopes and strives for a better future.  Whether that comes to pass is anyone’s guess.  Certainly, the fortunes of the Sith did not improve with time.”

 

“What happened to them?” Rey wants to know. 

 

“Truthfully?  I got bored.  I allowed too much infighting and I spent my days ruling my Zakuul empire instead.  It was a mistake.  The Sith required a strong leader to keep their destructive impulses in check.   Without that, the Sith Empire crumbled from within.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Our culture championed the individual and rewarded ambition and achievement.  It fostered competition so that the best, most talented rose to rule others. But without a unifying purpose and a strong leader to focus that competition elsewhere, the Sith consumed themselves.  Darkness unchecked is dangerous.  Never forget that, Daughter.  Balance should always be your goal.”

 

“Why didn’t you step in to save them?” Rey frowns.  “You were their leader, right?”

 

Snoke shrugs it off.  “I had begun to question the values of the Sith by then.  Revan had a profound impact on me, especially as the years went on.  Revan sent me in a new direction.  I no longer wished to rule the civilization I was born to.  I went seeking fresh ideas and new challenges.  And then I ended up in prison and I no longer cared.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Ah, here we are.”  They round a final corner to enter a large room.  “This is what we have come to see.”  Snoke gestures to the strange anomaly that slowly swirls in mid-air towards the corner of the otherwise empty room.  It’s like there is an invisible ripple in their reality.   Rey can sense the energy of it even standing meters away.  It glows slightly, she realizes. 

 

“What is it?” Rey asks warily.

 

“That is a portal into what the Jedi termed the cosmic Force and the Sith called the World Between Worlds.  Daughter, beyond that portal is the realm of ‘what ifs.’   Step through that vergence and you will experience an alternative reality that has been discarded.   These are glimpses of a past or a future that never was.”

 

“Oh.”   Sounds scary, Rey thinks.

 

“When you enter the portal, you will experience it completely.  Sometimes it’s fun.  Sometimes it’s threatening.  Sometimes it makes no sense.  Just remember, it is not real.  So there is nothing to fear beyond that portal.”

 

“Okay.”  Rey turns back to Snoke.  She remembers him telling her about this before she left Mortis. “That’s where you told me to hide if I was in trouble, right?”

 

“Yes.  Let the Force protect you.  Laymen can’t see the portal so they won’t understand.  They will just see you disappear. A Force user will see the portal and understand where you have gone.  But they can’t chase you into the portal very effectively. My alternate reality is not the same as your alternate reality, you see, even if our paths cross in life.  That means what you see when you walk into that portal will be different from what I see if I walk in right after you.”

 

“That makes sense . . . sort of,” Rey observes.  Well, as much sense as any of the other mystical aspects of the Force. 

 

“We had a portal in the temple adjacent to my palace on Dromund Kaas,” Snoke reveals.  Then he launches into yet another war story from his past.  “In my very early days as Sith Emperor, I narrowly escaped an assassination attempt by leaping into the Force.  That experience set me on the path to discovering the secret to immortality.”  Snoke cracks a smile.  “There’s nothing like a near death experience to make you appreciate life and want to continue it.”

 

Whatever.  “I don’t need this.  I can take care of myself,” Rey bristles.

 

“Yes, yes, so could I, but it was useful all the same,” Snoke persists.  “Sometimes, you need all the help you can get.” 

 

“Are there more of these portals?”  Rey asks.  “Didn’t you say there is one at Vader’s castle?”

 

“Yes,” Snoke confirms.  “But there are others scattered about.  Mostly, they can be found in old temples.   Go ahead,” he encourages her.  “Go in.”

 

“Are you sure?”  Because Rey isn’t.

 

“Yes.  Go in.  Experience it for yourself.  There is nothing to fear.”

 

“Alright.”  Rey takes a deep breath and walks in. 

 

Suddenly she finds herself sitting on a bench in the midday sunshine.  Rey recognizes where she is by smell before she locates herself by sight.  Because she and Kylo always came here at night, not in the day.   But the yummy, greasy pizza smell is distinctive.  The is the park on Coruscant with the pizza stand Kylo loves.

 

It looks different in the daytime, Rey surmises as she looks around.  It’s even more mundane and rundown.  But Kylo doesn’t seem to notice.  And the joyful dark haired three-year-old boy who rushes up to him clutching a small ball doesn’t seem to care either. 

 

“Again!  Again!” the boy urges in a high-pitched baby voice. 

 

Kylo smiles and dutifully rolls the ball to the boy as requested.  Father and son are both dressed in nondescript street clothes, like Rey is.  They could be any young family here on middle class, Middle Level Coruscant.  Except they’re not.  Far from it, in fact.

 

Seeing this happy domestic scene, Rey surmises why their days of late-night pizza runs to the park are over.  They’re in a new phase of life now.  Pizza runs would require a babysitter.

 

“Mommy!  Mommy!”

 

It takes Rey a moment to realize that the little boy is talking to her.  She’s the mommy now.

 

“Mommy!  Mommy!  Your turn!”

 

Kylo inserts himself now.  “Nah, Ben.  Let Mommy be.  She needs to rest.  She doesn’t really want to bend to pick up a ball right now.”

 

Rest?  Bend?  W-What??   And that’s when Rey becomes aware that she’s enormously pregnant.  She looks down and it’s like she has a basketball under her shirt, only that basketball is making her ribcage and hips hurt.   A lot.  Yeah, it doesn’t really look possible to bend currently. 

 

Rey blinks in shock at her maternity shirt stretched tight.  Is this what she’s going to look like in a few months time?   And feel like too?  Yikes. 

 

“Mommy!”   The kid now careens headlong for her.  Rey dutifully opens her arms to intercept him.  And now, the boy squeals and buries his face in her chest.  And is he?   Ewww yuck.  He is.  The kid is wiping his snotty nose across her shirt as his little baby arms hug her tight.  It’s sweet even if it’s nasty.  “I wuv you, Mommy,” he tells her, his words muffled by her ginormous tummy.

 

“Ease up now, son,” Kylo advises.  “Don’t jostle your mother too much.  Your little sister is making her very tired today.”

 

Sister?   Sister??

 

“Ba-by!” Little Ben shouts as he pulls back and pokes hard at her taut tummy.  Then the boy launches into a very catchy, very annoying tune. “Ba-by shark!” he hollers again and again at the top of his lungs.  “Ba-by shark!  do-do-do-do-to-do!  Ba-by shark!  do-do-do-do-to-do!”

 

Apparently, this is a favorite tune.  Kylo catches Rey’s gaze, smiles, and rolls his eyes.   Then he reaches down to pluck up their son.  The boy laughs as Kylo settles him onto his shoulders.  “Ready?” he asks.

 

No.  Not at all.  Rey isn’t ready for any of this. 

 

Kylo holds out a hand and now Rey has flashbacks to Snoke’s throne room.  It must be an inside joke for them in this reality because Kylo now smirks, “Join me?”

 

She’s two kids in already, so she might as well.  Rey reaches up to accept Kylo’s help to haul her to her feet.  And that’s not too easy given how ungainly and big she feels. 

 

“I’m not ready for this,” Rey groans as she clutches her heavy belly and looks up at the preschooler still chanting the baby shark song at the top of his lungs.   She is definitely not ready for this. 

 

“Cheer up. You’ve got another month left,” Kylo consoles her as he throws a comforting arm around her shoulders.   “You’ll be ready by the time she gets here.”

 

Rey gulps. “I hope.”

 

Kylo squeezes her shoulder.  “You will be,” he says with confidence. “Hey, I’ve been thinking more about what you said and I agree.  Let’s go with Leia.”

 

Er . . . what?  But the comment seems to require a response, so Rey agrees. “Okay.” 

 

They’re at their parked speeder now.  “Okay?  Okay?? That’s it?  Don’t I get more than that?”

 

Huh?  Rey looks up in confusion and Kylo plants a kiss on her. 

 

“There.  We just named our daughter.  Leia Skywalker Solo.  Princess of the First Order.”

 

Kylo bends to start buckling their son into his car seat now.  Rey stands staring at the Supreme Leader of the galaxy doing such a homey task.  Kylo playfully ruffles little Ben’s hair when he’s done. The boy beams up adoringly at his father.  They have the same long nose and big ears, but the boy’s coloring favors Rey’s.   His skin is less pale and his hair less dark than his father’s. 

 

“Hop in. I’ll drive.”

 

“I doubt I can fit behind the controls anyway,” Rey sighs.

 

Kylo looks her up and down and laughs.  “You might be right.”

 

Soon they are whizzing through Coruscant back to the Palace. Kylo glances back at little Ben strapped in his carseat.  The motion of the speeder has lulled the boy to sleep. “Guess it’s nap time already.”   Kylo smiles over at her. And just the mention of sleep prompts Rey to yawn.  “When we get back, maybe you should take a nap too,” he suggests. “You know, bank some sleep in advance while you can. Before you’re up all night nursing our princess.”

 

In this reality, Kylo seems perfect, Rey decides.  And there is no talk of politics or the Force or war or her father.   Yes, this is a reality Rey could definitely be content with.  “You’re a great dad,” Rey observes softly.  “And a good husband.” 

 

“And you’re the best mommy ever, Senator,” Kylo jokes as he reaches over to grab Rey’s hand in her lap.  “Team Skywalker, right?” 

 

“Yeah.”  Rey looks down at their clasped hands and repeats softly, “Team Skywalker.”

 

Back at the Palace, Kylo carries in sleepy Ben while Rey waddles awkwardly at his side.  Together they lay their boy down in his little toddler bed and turn out the lights. 

 

“Think he’s going to fall out again?” Kylo whispers. 

 

“Let’s hope not.”

 

“Yeah.  We need the crib for Leia.  Time for Benny to step up to the big boy bed.”  Kylo takes a long look at their sleeping son.  “He’s growing up fast, Rey.  Today, we’re rolling a ball.  Tomorrow, we’ll be swinging swords.”

 

Rey doesn’t know what to say to that comment.

 

Next, Kylo walks her to his bedroom—their bedroom in this reality.  “Go take a nap,” he tells her as he drops a kiss on her forehead.  “Take advantage of a Saturday when the Senate’s not in session.”

 

Rey mutely complies.  Kicking off her shoes, she crawls fully clothed into the bed they once shared in the bedroom that looks just the same as she remembers.   Then, she inhales the faint scent of Kylo on the sheets and closes her eyes. 

 

When she opens them, she’s back in the Naboo temple.   Snoke is at her side.

 

“You’re here.  You’re safe,” her father assures Rey as she startles and visibly panics a moment.

 

“This is real?” Rey needs to confirm.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Like real real?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh.”  That means Rey is back to her life of exile. Pregnant and estranged from Kylo.  The little boy who rode on his father’s shoulders doesn’t exist and the baby girl named for her heroine grandmother will never be born.  The happy family she glimpsed in the Force is just a fleeting daydream.  And Kylo will never get the chance to be the sweet, caring dad and life partner she just saw.  Because this is real life.  And it sucks.

 

Inexplicably, Rey starts to cry.  After having seen what might have been, she feels a keen sense loss.

 

Oblivious Snoke looks to assure her.  “What you saw is not real.  It is a path not taken.”

 

“Why?” she demands.  “Why??”  Why couldn’t she and Kylo be happy like that reality?

 

“The Force contemplates all possibilities, but it discards them along the way.   We discard them too with our own choices,” Snoke explains.

 

“I don’t understand,” Rey sobs.

 

“No one is completely in charge of their own fate.  But we have free will as well.  So the choices we make and the choices others make combine with the Force to determine our future.”

 

“So the present is my fault, is that what you’re saying?”

 

“Partly, yes,” Snoke answers.  He looks concerned.  “Rey, what did you see?”

 

“So, you’re certain?”  Rey wipes away her tears and looks up.  “You’re absolutely certain that what I saw will never happen?”

 

“No,” Snoke is blunt.  “The future is always in motion.  If you change your mind, if others follow different paths, or if the Force takes a new course, anything can happen.  The only constant in the universe is change. Especially when it comes to Force users.  We promote change.”  Snoke looks especially troubled now.  “What did you see?  Tell me,” he commands.

 

“It was sad,” is all Rey answers.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”


	42. chapter 42

So . . . he’s supposed to be the new Revan, eh?    Well, who exactly was Revan?   Kylo only knows the barebones of the man’s story.  He was the savior of the Republic and then its would-be conqueror.  He was the Jedi crusader hero who stood up to the invading Mandalorians when no one else would.  And yet he ultimately became the Dark villain who sparked a civil war.  So was Revan a traitor or did the Republic betray him?   Kylo doesn’t know what to believe. 

 

He reads the report his aides have prepared for him, and he still has no clue.  Admittedly, his aides don’t have much to work with.  History this old has few original sources.  And the controversial nature of the subject makes the few extant accounts highly suspect.  The Old Republic Jedi hated and feared Revan, so they mostly tried to wipe the guy out of history.  The Senate viewed Revan as a regrettable political misstep they would rather forget.  Both institutions scrubbed their official records to revise their roles in the whole affair.  Then, those records mostly perished when the Republic fell. 

 

The only reliable contemporaneous evidence of Revan’s exploits that survives is from the Republic military academy archives.   As an institution, the Republic training academy and war college survived intact into the Empire years.   And then those records survived yet another revolution thanks to quick action by the many Imperial exiles who fled to become the First Order.   Kylo smirks as he reads through the sketchy provenance of the research.  For if there is one constant among the two Republics and the two Empires, it is war.  Why all the enduring interest for Revan among the military types?   Because everyone agrees that Revan was a genius military strategist.  The controversy surrounds whether he should have done what he did, not whether it was effective.   No one doubts that he saved the Republic.

 

This is a waste of time, Kylo decides.  Nothing in the prepared report mentions anything about the Force.  It is a glaring omission.   Because the Force is what set Revan apart from other controversial historical figures.   Revan was more than just a Republic general, he was a Jedi who built a super weapon and unapologetically used it.   Revan is one of several charismatic political mavericks in Republic history, but what makes him different is that he did it in complete defiance of the Jedi mandate to be apolitical. 

 

Kylo finally casts the report aside in disgust.  The really interesting aspects of the man seem to be lost to history.  How he used the Force, when and why he used his power, why he left the Jedi Order and how he became a Sith . . . none of that information survives.  All Kylo can glean is that Revan was committed to the ideals of the Republic but pragmatic about preserving them.  Revan clearly didn’t give a damn about authority figures, traditions, rules, or limitations.  He did what was expedient in the situation.  The man was a flexible idealist.  A selfless leader ironically willing to do what it takes to get his way.   Kylo understands that spirit.  He admires it.

 

How will he himself go down in history?  Kylo wonders.  Will he be the villain enforcer his grandfather was?   Or will he be the hero reformer like Luke Skywalker?  In Kylo’s mind, he is a bit of both.  But no one sees that.  Well, maybe Rey sees that.   She knows his commitment to the First Order is more than mere vainglory and lust for power.  Rey saw right away how conflicted he is.   That he desires power for a purpose more than just himself.   Unfortunately, that might be the best kept secret of his regime.

 

Kylo is uncomfortably aware that he is the very rare leader who is universally disliked, with no natural constituency.  Most of his former Republic citizens in the Core view him as an in-over-his-head tyrant.  Many First Order loyalists from the Rim write him off as a volatile opportunist who would be nothing without the Force.  Across the galaxy, the elites distrust him and the free media toes the line on openly mocking him.  He’s most popular in the Mid Rim where his free trade policies have revved up world economies fast.  The Rim proletariat likes him okay for his crackdown on crime and his infrastructure building spree.  But the everyman of the Core blames him for Hosnia.    

 

It’s discouraging.  Because with Darth Vitiate breathing down his neck, Kylo worries that his days as Supreme Leader are numbered.  Rey might have told the truth about the baby and about Vitiate’s capabilities and prison lair, but Kylo is far from ready to conclude that Vitiate is not a threat.  Because if imprisoned Vitiate in his Snoke disguise can topple the New Republic, he can certainly oust Kylo as head of the Second Empire.   

 

The threat of Rey’s father makes Kylo determined to go down in history for something positive.  For something more than merely cleaning up the Rim and exploring the Unknown Regions.  Kylo refuses to be relegated to a shadowy footnote in history like Revan.   After a year of uncertainty, anger, and sadness, he finally knows where things stand with Rey.  It’s time for him to shake off his funk and rededicate himself to ruling. 

 

Let destiny will take its course with him, Vitiate, and Rey.  Kylo can’t stop that.  But in the meantime, he is moving on.  He will make meaningful change that matters.  Unlike the prior Skywalkers, Kylo will leave behind a legacy, not a mess.  And so, Kylo decides to reboot both his image and his Empire.

 

He begins by announcing plans to reorganize his regime to be more equally balanced between the Core and the Rim.  It’s a power grab back from the self-aggrandizing First Order bureaucrats who have been making things unnecessarily complicated.   Kylo is astute enough to realize that the problems that exist on urban, highly populated worlds are not the same problems that are found on settlement outposts.  Also, the solutions people will accept and tolerate in the Rim are different from what will fly in the Core.  The galaxy is a diverse set of beings with differing goals and values.  One size does not fit all.  Leader Ren decides he is prepared to tolerate a lot of different approaches on a local level to achieve his goals.  But there must be an overlaying influence too.  For that’s where the old Empire failed.  In the immediate aftermath of the bloody Clone Wars, Palpatine had resorted to military force to hold his Empire together.  Maybe that made some sense for the former Separatist worlds, but on the whole the old Empire lacked any common unifying factor other than war. 

 

Kylo is determined to change that.  He outright rejects the Tarkin Doctrine.  Fear will not keep the local systems in line.  It will slowly tear his Empire apart and prime it for a rebellion.  Probably led by his unborn son, he thinks sourly.

 

To avert that outcome, Kylo needs the systems to want to be a part of his Empire.  To do that, he will make the Core more dependent on the Rim and vice versa.  His strategy is to foster trade routes to intermingle the business affairs of the galaxy.  Each world will have a meaningful stake in the stability and success of its customers and suppliers off-world.  Hopefully, that will ratchet down the tensions and rivalries between the local systems and sectors of the galaxy.  Now that the hyperspace lanes are free of pirates and organized crime no longer skims protection money off shipments, intergalactic trade is booming.  Business, Kylo plots, will one day temper the influence of his military.  One day his judges will resolve disputes, not his generals.

 

It’s a populist message of prosperity and unity for all.  It’s also a dog whistle to the capitalist moguls of the galaxy.   Yes, Kylo is openly pandering to the Core elites.  But he desperately needs a non-military base of support and those guys are not likely to volunteer to sign up with Hux or Vitiate.   When it comes to power, Kylo is a pragmatist.  But he believes his strategy will show progress for everyone—Rim and Core, rich and poor, human and alien.  The long-term solution to securing his power is to show progress, not to suppress.  It’s a tall order and it will take time that he may not have, but Kylo is determined at least to try.  

 

It’s classic him.  As a decision maker, Leader Ren clings to very few principles.  He is flexible enough to recognize that there are multiple solutions to many problems and that most of life has tradeoffs.  Democracy has its strengths and weaknesses, and so does the autocracy he is currently working hard to create. Mostly, Kylo wants things to work.  His management style is motivated primarily by expediency:  he weighs the costs and benefits, makes a decision, and moves on.  Kylo Ren sizes up things with an unsentimental, ruthlessly strategic eye.  Nothing is sacrosanct.  Well, there is one thing in the universe that he is unabashedly optimistic and dreamy about:  like all Skywalkers, he’s a fool for the Force. 

 

In another surprise move, Kylo decides to go public with his heritage, despite being vehemently counseled against it.  Let the holonet conspiracy theorists go wild.  He doesn’t care because transparency has value unto itself.  And, in this case, Kylo thinks transparency might win him some goodwill.  He is the First Order Supreme Leader who fought his own kin because that’s how strongly he felt about his cause of peace and order.  But he also has many ties to the losing side, and he hopes that will put a slightly different spin on things.  So, without fanfare during an ordinary morning press briefing, the PR guys plant the question with a friendly reporter.

 

“We’ve heard rumors that Leader Ren has family ties to the leadership of the Resistance.  Can you confirm or deny this?”

 

One word sparks an instant firestorm of controversy:  “Yes.”

 

The details trickle out, carefully managed for maximum effect.  Leader Ren is the former Ben Skywalker Organa Solo.  The only child of Senator Leia Organa and her ex-husband the Rebellion general, sometime smuggler, and space racer, Han Solo.  Ben Solo was a young Jedi student at Luke Skywalker’s training temple when he was presumed dead along with the rest of the murdered and missing students.  But Ben Solo wasn’t the victim, he was the perpetrator.  And that’s where the two media-friendly versions of Kylo’s life story start to diverge.

 

For the reactionary, Rim-dwelling, more fascist leaning types, it goes like this:  at a young age, Kylo Ren saw through the lies of the Jedi.  He recognized the limitations of the New Republic.  He, like so many other reform minded people, refused to be a part of all that.  He fled to Supreme Leader Snoke, his foster father, mentor, and teacher in the Force.  As the Apprentice, Kylo Ren learned directly from the original bold visionary leader of the First Order.  Snoke taught his Apprentice to make the hard choices to ensure the war was won as swiftly as possible.  No one wanted another Clone Wars, after all.  Years later, the runaway Jedi student is the victorious founder of the Second Empire.  It is fitting, the Leader’s spokesman says solemnly.  For Kylo Ren is the grandson of the First Empire’s fearsome Dark Lord Darth Vader.  Everything old is new again.  That’s the version the hardcore Palpatine-loving First Order rank-and-file loyalists eat up.

 

For the more moderate, Republic-leaning types, there is a different spin.  Kylo Ren is the prince of Alderaan born in the Core, a young man raised in the tradition of the Republic and schooled first as a Jedi.  Leader Ren knows both sides of the recent conflict because he has lived them.  He is, the media spin masters maintain, far more accommodating than he is given credit for.  The subtext of this pitch is to blame much of the First Order’s excesses on dead Snoke.  Leader Snoke was a visionary whose zealotry got out of hand.  With the Leader’s passing, came an opportunity to chart a new course.

 

This version is a bit of a fanciful sob story, too.  For it emphasizes that the rift between the prodigal Skywalker son and his family was a wound that would not heal.  Kylo Ren tried repeatedly, the story goes, but he could not reconcile with his longtime terrorist warmonger mother.  Contrary to public thought, it is revealed that Leia Organa was not executed with the rest of the Resistance.  She died months later of injuries previously sustained.  Because, of course, Kylo Ren couldn’t bring himself to execute his beloved, if estranged, mother.   Luke Skywalker was a different story.  Kylo makes it known that his uncle tried to execute him in his sleep.

 

Is all this media rebranding working?  Has Kylo earned himself any goodwill?  It’s hard to tell.  The details of his personal background are a carefully crafted mix of concrete facts and deliberate vagueness.  Both sides can twist the information to see what they want to see. In the end, no one knows what to believe.  It’s a mixed bag.  The only consistent takeaway is that—love him or hate him—Leader Ren is not what he seems. It prompts some of his citizens to give him a second look.  But it also gets his generals grumbling even more.  For as Kylo Ren becomes more and more his own man and breaks away from the orthodoxy of the military who won his war, there are those who deeply resent it.  Kylo is aware of this, naturally.  It prompts him to keep an especially close eye on Armitage Hux and his cadre of deep state followers.

 

There is so much work to do and not enough hours to do it.  And lurking in the background is the ever-present threat of Vitiate.  Kylo knows he must increase his power if he has any chance of surviving that showdown.  And so, late one night he trudges into his private office ready to study yet another Jedi holochron.  He is fresh from a shower, barefoot with wet hair and his pajamas on.  Feeling tired, too.  And that's when he senses the tickle in the back of his brain that he remembers from the days between the loss of Starkiller Base and the Battle of Crait. 

 

That's not . . . it isn't . . . it couldn’t be . . . it is. 

 

Fuck.

 

Suddenly, the Force bond with Rey reopens. 

 

She looks as surprised as he is. 

 

"Oh.  It's you,” she breathes as she stands to her feet and automatically reaches for her sword. 

 

Kylo reflexively does the same, even though it’s a useless gesture.  She can’t hurt him through the Force bond.   That first time on Ahch-To when Rey tried to shoot him had proved that. The only danger here is her words.   Not her sword. 

 

“It’s you,” she repeats nervously as he stares back. 

 

After a few seconds, Kylo recovers somewhat.  He runs a hand through his wet hair and scowls.  Of course, it’s him.  Who the Hell else would it be?   "This isn't my idea,” he complains, his sour tone matching her expression.  “Why is the Force connecting us like this again?"

 

"It's not.  Snoke is."

 

Kylo grimaces. "You mean Vitiate."

 

"I think of him as Snoke."

 

"Riiight.”  Is that because Snoke is the modern, cuddlier version of Vitiate?  Kylo wonders just how self-delusional Rey has become with Darth Daddy.    Rey deceived herself completely for years about her parents returning to Jakku.  She’s done this sort of thing before, he recalls. 

 

"Do we have to do this?" she complains, shifting her weight side to side.  Rey looks as self-conscious as he feels.  Damn, this is super uncomfortable.  It’s every bit as bad as those first few times the bond opened years ago. 

 

For his part, Kylo can’t stop staring.   It’s been several months since their ill-fated reunion, and the changes in Rey have him caught off guard.   Her pregnancy hadn’t seemed real until this moment when he sees the visible proof.  Kylo swallows hard as he keeps staring.   "You really are pregnant. I've never seen you thick before."  It's nice. Yeah, it's kind of nice.   Look how pretty she is with her hair shiny and loose, and her cheeks full and glowing pink. 

 

Rey takes the comment as criticism.  "I'm not fat.  I'm pregnant!   There's a difference."  She turns to the side to cup her small belly through her loose dress.  “See?”

 

But viewing her in profile reveals some other changes.  "You've got boobs now too. You never used to have boobs,” Kylo keeps up his awkward stream of consciousness observations.

 

Rey purses her lips and her eyes narrow.  She is not amused.   "How soon does this end?"

 

That haughty attitude pisses him off and eggs him on. “Did you grow an ass too?  Turn around. Let me see."  

 

"How soon does this end?" Rey grinds out again. 

 

"How should I know?” Kylo shrugs with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel.  His heart is beating fast and his blood is racing.  This unexpected meeting has him flustered even though he’s trying hard not to show it.   Worse still, it’s going all wrong.  “Go ask Sith Daddy to stop this,” he snaps.  “You said this is his handiwork."   Kylo resents being manipulated like this.  

 

"Actually, I do plan to complain to him,” Rey announces.  She looks like she means it, too.  She puts a hand on one hip and cocks her head and glares. “I don’t exactly enjoy your asshole comments, you know.”

 

Kylo tries to make amends now.  He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings.  It’s mostly Vitiate who he’s pissed at.  Rey?  Well, Rey is more disappointing than anything.  Kylo sighs and sits back in his chair as he appraises, “You look good.   Really good.  Just different.  That’s all.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”   And now he asks the question directly.  “So, is that really my kid?   Because I don't want some other guy's kid."   And wait—that came out wrong.  Everything he says keeps coming out wrong. 

 

"Of course, it's your kid.” Rey has the gall to look offended as she says this. 

 

"I thought you were on birth control."

 

"I was.  But apparently the Force had other plans."

 

"Or," Kylo drawls, "you got with some other guy while you were gone."

 

"There is no other guy!  I didn't cheat on you.”  She looks really offended now.  Sort of hurt, too.  “Kylo, I would never do that—“

 

"You used to be pretty cosy with Hux,” he recalls. 

 

"This baby is not Army's."

 

"I know that.  He's been here the whole time, not in your metaphysical realm of the Force where time stands still."  Which sounds completely preposterous but also possibly true. 

 

Rey throws up her hands.  "I didn’t cheat on you.  I wish you would believe me."

 

"You ran off to find my worst enemy when I warned you not to. You're capable of anything!” Kylo hisses.  Over a year later, he’s still plenty upset about that betrayal.

 

"I left to find my father." She points to her now normal looking eyes.  "He helped me when you couldn’t.”

 

Ouch.  That stings.  He’s not keen on being held up to Vitiate’s standards and found wanting.  Kylo lashes out, “He’s using you!  You’re completely and willingly under his control now—“

 

“Which you just hate, don’t you?   Because you liked the good old days when you were the one manipulating and controlling me!”

 

“It was never like that—“

 

“It was!  You liked me as a desert nobody, didn’t you?  But now that I’m somebody, that’s a gamechanger you don’t like!”

 

“You were always somebody!” he hollers back.  “Only you couldn’t see that about yourself!”

 

“I am your equal in every way now!” she proclaims proudly.

 

“You were always that in my mind, Rey.”  She was the one who let her insecurities limit her, not him.

 

Rey doesn’t seem to have a rejoinder to that remark.  She just stands there fuming.

 

Kylo sighs and looks away.  He and Rey will have to agree to disagree about her father.  He drops the subject.  It’s only leading to more conflict.

 

"Why'd you keep it?" he wants to know.

 

"The baby?"

 

"Yes, the baby.  Why'd you keep it?   I thought you didn't want it."

 

"I . . . uh . . . uh . . . changed my mind.”

 

“You mean Sith Daddy talked you into it?”

 

“No!  The baby was very recent news when I saw you and I didn’t have much time to get used to the idea.  But the more I thought about it, I sort of warmed to it.”

 

"I'm surprised.”  He slants her a skeptical look.  “You never seemed the motherly type."

 

That hits a nerve.  She glares at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"You always shot down the idea of kids.   Immediately.  Any time we talked about it."

 

"When did we ever talk about it?"

 

"Like when we bought the speeder--"

 

She nods slowly.  "Yeah . . . kinda, I guess . . . "

 

"And when we got married--"

 

"Yeah . . . but that wasn’t the best day . . .”  Now, it’s Rey’s turn to sigh audibly.  “Look, I didn't choose for this to happen but I'm okay with it now."  She looks away as she volunteers some news.  "It's a boy, in case you want to know."

 

"A boy?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Oh."   It’s a boy.  All Kylo can think is that Snoke must be thrilled to know he’ll get a replacement Apprentice.  Well, maybe even an upgrade since with him and Rey as parents, the kid should have oodles of Force. 

 

A long silence now falls.  Rey is looking at him expectantly.  Kylo knows he should say something.  He should definitely say something.  But what?  Gushing about a surprise son with his estranged wife who has sided with his enemy just seems wrong.  Plus, no matter what he seems to say to Rey, it comes out wrong.  He’s not keen on more conflict.  It’s been a long day and he’s not up for this. 

 

Kylo finally starts to talk just as Rey herself rushes to fill the silence. “So—“

 

“So—“

 

“You go ahead.”

 

“No, you,” she insists.

 

Okay.  “How are you?” he asks. 

 

She visibly brightens at the question but her response is still terse. “I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“The baby’s fine too.  Everything is normal.”

 

“Uh . . . good.”

 

“And you?”

 

“I’m fine.”  He gestures at his desk cluttered with datafiles, datapads, and comlinks.  “It’s the usual.  I’m running the Empire.  The haters are worse than ever these days,” he complains.  And why did he say that?   He sounds whiney. Like he’s not up to the task of leading. 

 

Another long silence falls.  And Kylo can’t stop staring.  Because Rey looks so different and yet the same.  It makes him think how so much has changed and yet so much is still the same.  Like that he still loves this girl even after all she’s done. 

 

He should probably apologize for doubting her.   But hurt Kylo can’t bring himself to do that.  So instead he says, “I'm glad the kid is mine.   And I’m glad you didn’t lie about Vitiate.  You were telling the truth.”   That means something, even if it doesn’t excuse her betrayal for seeking out her father in the first place.  Rey might be a fool, but she’s not a liar.  

 

She just nods in response.  “I’m on Naboo,” she blurts out.  “In case you need to know . . . ”  Her voice trails off and she looks embarrassed.  Like she’s said too much.   She starts nervously fiddling with her hair again.

 

“I won’t let him use you against me,” Kylo answers firmly.   “Tell Vitiate not to try.  He can open this Force bond as much as he likes, but it won’t matter.  I’m not going to Naboo.” With a resigned sigh Kylo concludes, “You chose your side, Rey.  I warned you not to do this.”

 

“And the baby?” she asks in a weak voice. 

 

“Maybe someday he will understand.”   Probably not.  Luke Skywalker hadn’t understood his secret father’s point of view. And Kylo himself hadn’t understood his own family’s conspiracy to hide their lineage.  Now yet again, a Skywalker kid will grow up separated from his family.  It’s not what Kylo wants, but he can’t see a way around it currently.

 

“Whatever happens, please don’t raise him to hate me,” Kylo requests.  This is a big fear of his.   That he will end up being pegged the bad guy in all of this.  He’s trying to do the responsible thing for his Empire.  And that means he needs to put his personal desires aside.  He refuses to be played for a fool with Rey and his son dangled before him as bait.  There’s too much at stake.

 

“Kylo, we’re not enemies,” Rey begins softly.

 

He cuts her off.  “I don’t think of you as my enemy.   You’re still my wife,” he replies in clipped, curt tones.  “But I don’t trust you.  I don’t think I will ever trust you again,” he laments.  

 

The bond abruptly cuts off now.  Kylo is back to staring at the wall of his office.  Rey is gone. 

 

He sits there stewing for a few minutes in silence.  Then he impulsively grabs his sword and heads to destroy the nearest wall.  He won’t be summoning the Light with holochrons tonight.  This Chosen One is feeling very Dark.

 


	43. Chapter 43

Naboo is pretty boring.  But in a good way.  That is, until the afternoon when Armitage Hux shows up. 

 

“Army!” Rey exclaims her surprise at the old friend standing on her doorstep.   “How did you find me?”

 

Hux ducks past her, with a furtive look over his shoulder as he enters the villa.  “It wasn’t easy. You’re a hard girl to find.”  Army moves to a nearby window to look out.  “I don’t think I was followed, but I can’t be sure.”

 

Rey concentrates a moment in the Force to confirm, “We’re alone.  There’s no one around for miles.” Snoke’s lessons have sharpened her senses.  She is far more attuned to others’ Force signatures now than ever before.

 

“It could be droids, not sentients,” Army frowns, still squinting out the window.  “Ren greenlighted some throwback battle droid factory last year for the Intel guys.  A smartass on his staff saluted and said ‘Roger-Roger’ and Ren gave him the Vader choke.”

 

“That sounds like Kylo,” she sighs.

 

Hux shoots her a meaningful look over his shoulder.  “His defensiveness is cringeworthy these days.  I’m almost embarrassed for him.”  Army pulls back from the window and stands to look her over now without enthusiasm.  “Look at you.  Preggers.”  Rey watches as Army visibly swallows and his jaw tightens.  Then he awkwardly announces, “Well, come on.  Let’s hug it out,” as he yanks her into a bear hug and then leaps back immediately.  Armitage Hux is not a touchy-feely kind of guy on a good day.  But he looks downright creeped out by the feel of her burgeoning belly between them. 

 

For her part, Rey is delighted to see her visitor.   She grins up at her friend and mentor. “General Hugs, I have missed you,” she gushes.

 

“Same here.”  Army nods.  He blinks and adds softly, “You have no idea how happy I was to learn you’re alive.” 

 

Hux looks at her, she looks at him, and the moment is important. 

 

But then Army blinks and steps back.  He immediately starts making himself at home, pacing around Rey’s luxurious surroundings.  “I see you’re not roughing it,” he observes as he inspects.  “I expected to find you in some hovel like that Lower Level apartment you had on Coruscant.”

 

“That’s why I’m here.” 

 

“You’re hiding in the open,” Army concludes.

 

“Yes.”  Rey shrugs sheepishly and awkwardly jokes, “Hey, it worked for Luke Skywalker growing up, didn’t it?”

 

“Is this all Snoke’s credits?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Hux looks her over critically again, his eyes again lingering on her bulging waistline.  “How are you?” he asks quietly.

 

Rey looks away as she lies. “O-Okay.”

 

“Really?”

 

“No.”  Rey bites her lip.

 

“Are you really pregnant?” Army comes right out and asks.  He gestures nervously at her belly.  “That’s not some pillow under your dress to fool everyone, is it?”

 

“No.  I’m really pregnant.”  Rey flushes.  There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  But somehow, she feels uncomfortable discussing this with Army.  So, before he can ask the obvious follow-up question, Rey volunteers, “Kylo is the father.”

 

Army says nothing.  He just heads back to the window for another peek outside.

 

It makes her nervous.  “How did you find me?” Rey calls over to him.

 

Army ignores the question.  “Ren is a mess,” he reports as he turns around.   “Well, more of a mess than usual.”   Army never minces words when it comes to his contempt for his boss.  “That’s why I’m here.”

 

“You’re here on Kylo’s behalf?”  Rey raises an eyebrow.   

 

“Of course, not,” Army sniffs.  “I’m here for you.”

 

Given the history between those two men, Rey can’t help but be suspicious.  “Look, if you are back to recruit me for your coup, count me out.”  She’s not Kylo’s enemy despite their estrangement.  Nothing good will come out of setting herself up in opposition to the father of her child, Rey believes.   She meant what she told Snoke about stopping the cycle of Skywalker versus Skywalker.

 

Army looks very serious now as he walks back towards her.  “I’m here to warn you.  A coup is a very real possibility.”

 

“Don’t be vague,” Rey snaps back. “I know you’re behind it.”

 

“Actually, I’m not.  General Jerard is.”  Rey blinks at the unfamiliar name but notes how Army stiffens.  “It seems I am no longer the military’s choice for a leader,” he explains, managing to look simultaneously embarrassed and affronted.   This is clearly a development that doesn’t sit well with Hux.   His jaw tightens as he scowls and looks away.

 

“Oh.”  Rey didn’t see that news coming.  “Really?”  That’s hard to believe.  Army has an enormous base of support within the First Order and a lot of public name recognition.

 

“You were gone a year,” Hux reminds her as he shifts his weight pensively.   “Plenty has happened behind the scenes.”

 

Yes, she can see.  Rey is concerned.  She softens her posture and steps forward to him.    She should have realized something was wrong immediately.  For Army is less than his usual self-assured, snarky self.  It’s more than just his reaction to seeing her.  Looking at Army in civilian attire, his posture is as ramrod straight and proud as always.  But he somehow looks diminished.  Maybe even vulnerable.  “Army, what happened?”

 

He sighs and runs his palm through his perfect hair, mussing it up for once.  “I’m a politician in too many people’s eyes.  They say I’ve been out of the command structure too long.  That I don’t have the boldness to lead because I haven’t acted yet.  I’m too identified publicly with the Senate and with Ren’s regime.”  Hux slants his eyes to her as he explains, “The military isn’t big on democracy.  The Senate will be disbanded immediately if they win.”

 

“Wait—the top brass dumped you?”  Is she understanding correctly?

 

Army grimaces at her choice of words.   “I waited too long and lost my chance.   Jerard spends his days doling out promotions and setting up his shadow government while I legislate crap Ren gives me.  It’s allowed Jerard to shore up considerable support.  He’s going to act, Rey.   And it won’t be some amateur effort like that assassination attempt on Ren a few months back.”

 

“There was as assassination attempt?” Rey didn’t know about that.

 

“Ren was rushed on the Palace landing platform.  He killed them all.  But he won’t get a chance to do that in an ambush planned by Jerard.  That guy is good.”

 

Yikes.  This keeps getting worse.  Rey’s eyes narrow as she asks, “How does this General Jerard feel about you?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

Rey learned a thing or two about sizing up threats on Jakku.  “You’re a rival.  Maybe a threat,” she assesses.  “But if you recognize his authority after his coup, you could give him legitimacy.  That has benefits, right?”

 

Army shakes his head.  “The only legitimacy he needs is control of the military.”

 

“So . . . you’re a rival then?”

 

“Yes.  He’s making overtures but it’s a ruse.   He’ll kill Ren and then he’ll kill me to consolidate power.”

 

Rey digests this a moment.  “You’re switching sides?  Is that it?  You’re now pro-regime?   Pro-Ren?”

 

Army sums it up succinctly.  “I can be Ren’s Chancellor or I can die in Jerard’s coup.   Which would you choose?”

 

“To survive.”  Rey always chooses to survive. And she won’t fault anyone else for making the same choice.  “Why are you telling me this?” she wonders aloud.  “I’m banished.  Kylo said he’d kill me if I came back.  Army, I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”  Rey feels pushed to the sidelines in this brewing conflict.

 

“I’m here to warn you because you’re in danger.   Rey, if you are found, you will be killed.  Maybe if they get you first, they will use you for leverage or bait against Ren.  But they won’t let you and that baby live.  No one wants any more Force crazies around.   Plus, that kid’s another Skywalker and arguably the rightful heir to Kylo Ren’s Empire.  No one will risk letting that kid live.”

 

Rey can’t argue with his reasoning.  She knows people fear the Force.  And now that Kylo has publicly revealed himself to be a Skywalker, a lot of people are very dubious about a family dynasty that spans both Empires and Republics.  No matter what’s going on in the galaxy, for the past fifty years a Skywalker always seems to be in charge.

 

"Jerard is pressuring Ren hard to hunt you down.  He keeps pushing for you to be formally declared an enemy of the state.   He wants a bounty on your head."  Army steps closer as his words become more pointed.  “If I can find you, others can find you.  At the very least, get some guards around here.  And change up your hair and your clothes.  You’re far too recognizable from your old media coverage.  Stop dressing like you’re some princess, will you?  It will get you killed.”

 

“Have you told Kylo about the plot?” Rey asks in a small voice.

 

Hux looks annoyed by the question. “Still worried about him?”

 

“No!” she lies, answering a bit too quickly.  “I’m just wondering if General Jerard will succeed, that’s all.”

 

Hux looks peevish as he announces, “I haven’t told Ren and I don’t plan to.  He wouldn’t trust me.  And it would prompt him to get in my head like an interrogation.  I’ve seen that.  I don’t want that.   Besides, I don’t know the full details. I worry that the little I know is intentionally fake to mislead me.  So, if I told Ren and he picked my brain, it would backfire and discredit me.”

 

“Right,” Rey nods.  She sees the logic of this viewpoint.  Kylo would be extremely skeptical of anything Hux told him.

 

“So . . .”  Army slants a glance her way.  “Snoke is still alive?” he fishes.  “You told Ren the truth that day, didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah, he’s alive.  In a manner of speaking,” Rey confirms.

 

“Like Skywalker was alive at Crait?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And he’s really your father?” Hux asks.

 

“Yes.  Well, sort of.”

 

“I liked Snoke.”

 

“You did not!” she responds.

 

“I respected him,” Army bristles.  “And that’s more than I can say for Ren.  In a choice between Snoke, Ren, and Jerard, I’d choose Snoke in a heartbeat.  He’s the least worst of the options.” 

 

It’s not a ringing endorsement.  It’s more like a clear-eyed assessment of odds.  And that gets Rey thinking.  “That’s really why you haven’t told Kylo, isn’t it?” she accuses.  Rey is finally figuring out what’s going on here.  “You’re not here for me, you’re here to join team Snoke!”

 

Army looks her in the eye, scowls and vows, “I’m here for you!”  He stalks towards her.

 

“Well, I’m telling you what I told Kylo—I am not plotting with my father!” Rey retorts.

 

“Tell me you’re through with Ren,” Army rasps as he steps close and searches her eyes.  “Tell me it’s over with him.  Because we’d make a great team.”

 

Is he talking politically or personally?  Rey isn’t sure.  But earnest Army steps even closer now.  He’s inches away.  Very much in her personal space.  He looks so classically handsome now, with that wayward red lock fallen out of his coif to curl on his forehead.  Suddenly, her fingers are itching to brush it away.

 

Army grips at her elbows now.  “Rey, you and I could help each other.  I told you that long ago, but it’s more true than ever now.”

 

“Army—“

 

“These are strange times.  Dangerous times.   You need an ally and so do I.”

 

“A-Army—”

 

“Don’t say no.”  Army leans in.  His voice is a whisper now.  “Please don’t say no—” 

 

Rey looks up.  He’s not going to . . . he is.  No, he isn’t.  Army just stands there poised to kiss her.  Hesitating. 

 

She hesitates, too.  

 

“GEN-ER-AL.” 

 

Rey and Hux instantly spring apart.

 

The booming voice is unmistakably Supreme Leader Snoke.   Sure enough, the years dead leader of the First Order now appears through a doorway to interrupt.  He shuffles with his slow, twisted gait into the room.  The man is blinding in his sparkly gold bathrobe and matching slippers that contrast so starkly with his pale pink skin and blue eyes.

 

“Supreme Leader!” Hux snaps to rigid military attention, his eyes bulging. 

 

“Hello, Father,” Rey smiles.

 

Snoke grins at Army’s shocked response.  “They say you speak of the devil and he appears,” Snoke purrs.  “I hope I do not disappoint.”

 

“Supreme Leader.  How glad I am to see you,” Hux breathes out.  

 

“Indeed.  Thank you, General, for the vote of confidence.”  Snoke ambles over to a chair and falls into it heavily.  It’s his makeshift throne for this morning, apparently. He waves a large clawed hand at their guest and commands, “At ease, General.  Now report.  I wish to know of this revolt being planned.”

 

“You heard?”

 

“Your mind is screaming at me.  But I wish to hear it in your own words, General.”

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

 

Army launches into the details of the plot, gleefully naming names to his old boss even as he hedges his information with caveats.  He’s not in the loop, Hux admits.  In fact, he is increasingly tangential to the military men he used to lead.  Ren has made me irrelevant, he gripes. 

 

“Because he perceived you as a threat,” Snoke nods.  He fixes his former general with a pointed look. “Which you were, of course.”

 

Army sidesteps that issue.  “Ren is watching me, not Jerard.   I’m not sure he truly perceives the threat.” It’s both a statement of fact and a smarmy diss.

 

Snoke’s gargoyle face splits in a sly smile. “You wonder why I kept a rabid cur in such a place of power?   You have long thought ill of my Apprentice.  Deemed him immature and unworthy.  Do not deny it.”

 

“He has the Force . . . ” Hux admits stiffly.

 

“He has more than that mighty Skywalker blood.”  Snoke leans forward in his chair.  “Kylo Ren is dangerous.  Far more dangerous than Jerard and his band of followers will ever be.  His only loyalty is to his own destiny.  Witness how he threw out his wife and disavowed their child, nearly killing her in the process.  He killed his own father while looking him in the eye.  He hunted his uncle for years.  Tell me, General, do you think those are the hallmarks of a man who will easily concede an Empire?”

 

Hux relents.  “No, Supreme Leader.”

 

“Jerard will not depose him. My Apprentice is just beginning to come into his true power.  But,” Snoke’s eyes dart over to Rey, “A cur’s weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp stick.”

 

Hux looks lost in this ongoing analogy.   But Rey is not.  She frowns but stays silent.

 

Snoke now invites Army to sit.  A rambling three-hour discussion ensues during which Hux updates them both on the regime.  The topics range from Kylo’s economic reforms and increasingly permissive attitude towards civil rights, to the new Death Star and other weapons systems in development, to the ongoing exploration of the Unknown Regions to expand the Empire.  But by far, the two men exhaust the most words on the current state of play among the elite of the First Order.  Snoke knows all the ones to watch, naturally.  Hux catches him up on what those men have been doing for the past four years.

 

Snoke is loving being back in the loop, Rey sees.  He is very engaged.  Chuckling darkly as he revels in his catbird seat.

 

“You shall be our eyes and ears embedded within the regime,” Snoke anoints Army as his personal spy.

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Army answers solemnly.

 

Snoke waves a clawed finger at his eager minion.  “For now, your mission is to protect Ren.”

 

“Protect Ren?”  Hux clearly lacks enthusiasm for that task. 

 

“Yes.  I shall deal with him myself.  My Apprentice will answer for his treachery to me.  Not to Jerard.  Or,” Snoke holds his former general’s gaze with a warning look, “to you.”

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader.  And what of General Jerard?  Will we be approaching him for an alliance?”

 

“No.  Undermine Jerard.  Sow doubt.  Question his abilities.”

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader.  When do we move against Ren?”

 

Rey’s eyes pin Snoke but he pretends not to notice.  He gives a breezy, vague answer with a wave of his hand.   “When the time is right.  Not before.  First, we will let this other matter come to fruition.”

 

“And Rey?” Hux asks. 

 

“She will remain here safely anonymous.”  

 

“She is in danger,” Hux protests as his eyes dart towards her. 

 

“The Force will protect her with my help,” Snoke answers in a tone that invites no more discussion.  He stands now to indicate that the interview is done.  Snoke walks his new spy to the door, bidding him to lay low and telling Hux that he will find him in the future.  “Do not visit my daughter again,” Snoke orders.  “You will endanger yourself and her with further visits.”

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

 

Army gives Rey one last long.  “Goodbye,” he tells her softly before he ducks through the door.

 

“May the Force be with you,” Rey calls after his retreating form.

 

As soon as Army is gone, Rey whirls on her father.  “You led him to believe that you will move to depose Kylo.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You almost sound like that’s your plan,” she accuses. 

 

“I had to make it convincing, Daughter.  Hux is sharp.  If he had the Force, he would have made an excellent Apprentice.”

 

“So you’re using him?”

 

“He volunteered, did he not?”  Snoke flashes a sly grin.  “Never look a gift horse in the mouth, Daughter.”

 

Confused by the idiom, she asks, “What’s a horse?”

 

“A trainable, useful beast.  Now then, we need an ally within the regime and Hux is a good one.  If he believes that I will return to power and put him back in the inner circle after I clean house, all the better.”

 

“I don’t know . . . ”  Rey is suspicious of both Snoke’s and Hux’s motives.

 

“Now, don’t fret.  In time, we shall all get what we want.  You and your child will be safe, I will be released, Kylo Ren will keep his Empire, and Hux will remain in the inner circle.  A win-win for all,” her father proclaims.  “Best of all, peace and order shall reign throughout the galaxy as we usher in a new era of the Force.”

 

Rey is unimpressed by this grandiose talk.  “I don’t like this,” she speaks out loud her misgivings.  “Maybe Army is right and I should get some guards . . . ”

 

Snoke disagrees.  “Security will only attract attention out here.  It has a greater chance of revealing you than of protecting you.”

 

“What about this General Jerard?  How dangerous is he?” Rey wants to know.

 

“Dangerous enough.  Keep your sword close by at all times.  If you sense danger, then there is danger.   Remember,” Snoke points an emphatic clawed finger at her, “the Force never lies.  Listen to your instincts, Daughter.  Obey them.”

 

“The Force can’t protect me against an invasion army,” Rey worries.  “Who knows how many troopers this general could deploy?”

 

“He has to find you first.  And you, my dear, are about to be spotted in the Rim again.”

 

Rey’s eyes narrow.  “You’re going to pretend to be me again, aren’t you?”

 

Snoke nods.  “A good ruse will be better than security guards,” he explains.  “I’ll have to be gone more often now to keep up appearances.  I will need to leave clues to lead our enemies astray.  If they go looking for you, I want them to find me instead.”

 

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back when I can.  In the meantime, lay low.”

 

“So you’re leaving me out here on my own?” dismayed Rey complains.

 

Snoke gives her a reproachful look.  “Don’t play coy.  You are far from helpless.  In addition to your many skills, you have the Force,” he points out.  “Use it without hesitation if you are threatened.”  He gives her the same carte blanche that Kylo once gave her:  “I care not who you kill.  Do what you need to do to survive.  You and your child must live, no matter the cost.”

 

“What about that coup? Shouldn’t we tell Kylo about it?” she worries.

 

Snoke smirks.  “Do you really think he would believe us?”

 

No.  Probably not.  But, still.  “I’d feel better if we told him,” Rey grumbles.

 

“Let’s not make it too easy for him.  Any Supreme Leader worth his title should be able to keep control of his troops.  If he cannot do that, then perhaps I was mistaken to let him graduate from my tutelage.”

 

“He’s my husband and the father of this baby,” Rey maintains stubbornly.  “I should be helping him.”

 

Snoke has other ideas.  “You will help him best by keeping yourself safe and hidden.   Leave the coup to him.”

 

“But we are a family and we are strongest together,” she digs in.  “What if he loses?” Rey chokes out a horrible thought.

 

Snoke shrugs.  “Then Supreme Leader Snoke will have a miraculous resurrection to reclaim his rightful throne for a suitable regency period until his latest grandson comes of age.”

 

“W-Whaat?”

 

“Oh, never fear,” her father soothes.  “Betting against the Skywalkers has very long odds.  We are very hard to kill.  My Apprentice has always been tough in body.  It is spirit where he wavers.  Now, my dear, goodbye for now.”  Snoke drops a fatherly kiss on her forehead.

 

“Where are you going?” she demands petulantly.

 

“To stir the pot,” Snoke answers as his projection disappears into thin air.

 


	44. chapter 44

Just when his day is already off to a bad start and he’s late for a long afternoon of official audiences in the throne room, Kylo looks up from his desk to find an uninvited guest.

 

“Hello, my good and faithful Apprentice.”  The words are a sneer of sarcasm.

 

“You,” Kylo eyes his old Master with a marked lack enthusiasm.  He puts down his helmet that he was about to don.

 

Old Snoke stands before him in his ridiculous gold sparkly bathrobe, but somehow Kylo is the one being mocked.  “Miss me?” the gargoyle Sith leers and cackles.

 

“No.”  Kylo shoots his old Master a cold, menacing look.  Then, he lifts his chin and boasts, “My powers have doubled since the last time we met.”   It’s true.  His power is surging suddenly.  That’s how power in the Force progresses. In step discontinuities, rather than in a linear progression.  All except for Rey, who woke up one day on Jakku ridiculously overpowered in the Light and then woke up one night on Coruscant equally overpowered in the Dark. 

 

“Good.  Gooood,” Snoke coos his approval.  A wide grin splits his ruined face.  “Twice the pride, double the fall. Unless, of course, you cooperate and we both prosper.”

 

Kylo scowls.   He hates these veiled threats to depose him.  They keep him up at night.  Because he knows Snoke is fully capable of doing it. 

 

“Come now, my boy—“

 

“I’m not your boy.”   Not anymore.  Kylo is not about to bow and scrape to this guy like he did for years.  They are equals now, and so Kylo drops all tone and posture of deference.  He’s hostile and he doesn’t mind showing it.

 

Oddly enough, that fighting spirit seems to please Snoke.  “You are my great grandson,” he beams.  “And that makes you my boy.  We are family,” his Master gushes.  “Let us reconcile with one another.  We are strongest together,” he chides.

 

Kylo raises a cool eyebrow in response.   “Is this the pitch you planned to make to my mother?   Or my uncle?”

 

“Not at all.  Those two were a lost cause.”  Snoke is wholly unrepentant about writing them off. “I only consider the good Skywalkers my family.   The rest?”  He shrugs and smirks.  “Well, it’s best for all involved that those bad apples returned to the Force.”

 

Kylo can’t help but wonder if his mother is watching now in the Force.  Because Leia Organa would be indignant at being considered the black sheep of the family by this guy of all people.

 

“Come now, Kylo Ren.  I raised you for years, rearing you in Darkness.  Grooming you for greatness.  Handing you an Empire.  I invested in you.   So that one day we would rule the galaxy together.”

 

Kylo’s response is silence.  All this fake nostalgia badly misses its mark.  He isn’t even tempted. 

 

“Do not discount what you are offered,” Snoke warns.  “Because what I give, I can also take away.  Never forget that.”  Then, as if sensing he is making no headway, Snoke abruptly shifts gears.  “Rey and I had a visitor recently.”

 

Kylo nods.  “Hux. I know. I had him tailed.  He’s in custody now.”  Kylo is letting his Chancellor stew for a few days before his interrogation.  Just to fuck with him.  “Once I pick his brain apart, he’ll have a headache for a week.  Maybe longer.”

 

“That would be a stupid move,” Snoke drawls.

 

“Why?  Because then I might discover that he’s plotting with you?” Kylo jeers back. 

 

His old Master crosses his arms and levels Kylo a frustrated look.  “Why would I plot with a politician?  Were I to plot, it would be with a military man.   To get some firepower at my disposal.”   Snoke now orders, “Don’t kill Hux.  Hux is useful.  Hux is smart.  Make him an ally, not an enemy.”

 

“He’s been my enemy for years,” Kylo gripes.  The whole First Order knows that.  And Snoke himself used to loving pitting him and Hux against one another, Kylo recalls.  “I hate that guy,” he breathes out under his breath.

 

“Maybe so.  All the more reason not to give Hux a reason to sell Rey out to your enemies.  Hux knows where she is.”

 

“He won’t betray Rey.  He’s half in love with her,” Kylo grouses.

 

“Do not underestimate Armitage Hux,” Snoke differs sharply.  “He loves himself more than he loves any woman.   As do you,” Snoke observes pointedly.   “Oh, that’s not criticism.  I understand the sentiment.  I foolishly lived it in several prior lives.  But the fact remains that if Hux can find your wife, others can as well.”

 

“Not with you popping up all over the Rim pretending to be her.”

 

Snoke’s eyes dance.  “So you have figured out my little ruse.” 

 

“It wasn’t too hard.”

 

“Never fear, the real Rey awaits you on Naboo.  There’s no need to pick Hux’s brain. I will tell you precisely where she hides,” Snoke offers.

 

No, thanks.  “I’m not taking her back.”

 

“The longer you stall, the more likely someone else will come for her first,” his Master observes.  “You have enemies, Kylo Ren.  Your wife would make a very valuable hostage.”

 

“Oh, the irony of that statement,” Kylo sneers.

 

Ordinarily, that attitude would earn him some lightning, but today Snoke deigns to ignore it.  “Rey is a favorite of the Force, to be sure.  But that does not mean she is invincible.”

 

“Were you the one that led Hux to her?” Kylo guesses. 

 

But cagey Snoke isn’t giving anything away.  “What do you think?” his Master responds coyly.

 

His broken, lopsided smile grates.  Beneath that faux alien visage lurks a real monster, Kylo knows.  The handsome human Darth Vitiate has been the galaxy’s apex predator for millennia now.  “What game are you playing?” Kylo demands.  He can’t shake the feeling that he’s being expertly manipulated despite his recalcitrance.

 

“The oldest, best game of all,” Snoke purrs.  “The only game.  Power.  Kylo Ren, I can’t lose.  I have nothing to lose.  Everything you see before you now is fiction.  But you, my Apprentice, have everything to lose.” 

 

Is he still harping about Rey?   Kylo looks away.  “She’s your responsibility to protect.  She chose her side.”

 

“She’s your wife.   That’s your child.  That boy is your heir and Apprentice.  You’ll never find a more powerful son than that one.  It’s pure genetics.  My daughter is a Chosen One.  No ordinary woman has her Force to pass on.   You throw her away and you are every bit the fool Skywalker was!”

 

Kylo calls bullshit on that speech as he unleashes his sarcasm.  “Spare me the outraged papa routine.  You’re just using Rey.  And you can’t wait to get your hands on that kid.  Admit it!”

 

His Master lumbers forward now with that twisting, tortured hip dysplasia gait of his.  Why he would affect such a disability in this disguise projection is beyond Kylo.   But who knows who this guy really is and what he really thinks?   Kylo was Snoke’s Apprentice for years and yet he now feels like he never even knew the guy.

 

“Count your blessings that I am the one who has Rey now.  She lives in comfort and ease with me.  In the hands of other men, her circumstances might be quite different.”

 

Oh, come on.  “Hux isn’t going to kill her—“

 

“You have enemies other than Hux,” Snoke overrides him.  “Don’t tempt me with more of your bad judgement and incompetence.  I can depose you, set up Hux as Supreme Leader, and give him Rey for a consort.”  His dead Master shoots him a pointed glare.  “At this rate, Rey might be convinced that’s an upgrade for her.  And Hux would take her in a heartbeat.”

 

“He can have her,” Kylo grumps.

 

“Are you sure about that?”  Snoke calls his bluff.   “Careful, Kylo Ren, because my patience has limits.  I have all the time I want.   You, Apprentice, do not.”  Snoke waves a clawed finger at him.  “Remember that.”

 

Kylo has heard enough lecturing.  He goes on offense now.  “Stop with the threats.   They aren’t helping your case.”  Kylo cocks his head as insight suddenly dawns on him.  “You don’t know how to play this, do you?   Your plan didn't work.  You failed!  You thought I would do anything for Rey.  That she was the leverage that would induce me to bend to your will.  Only you were wrong.”

 

“There is a child—“

 

“I don’t care about that child.”

 

“You will.”

 

Kylo lays it out plainly now.  “I’m never letting you out of your prison.  You can rot in there another thousand years for all I care.”

 

Undeterred, Snoke responds by musing, “If you will not balance the Force, then perhaps Rey will.  Or your son.”

 

“Maybe so.  But I will not be the one to unleash your Dark soul on the galaxy,” Kylo vows hotly.  “I will not balance the Force only for you to lead it into Darkness!”

 

Snoke’s response is maddeningly smug.  “Oh, you will come for me.  I look forward to the day you come to Mortis.”

 

“Not a chance!”

 

“Oh, you will. I have foreseen it,” Snoke intones.  And now that he’s had the last word, he disappears.  Leaving Kylo fuming.

 

Tired of Snoke’s nagging threats and cryptic bullshit, Kylo decides that his throne room audiences can wait awhile longer.  He marches down to the detention center for some unfinished business.  He’s been trying to keep Hux’s incarceration secret, but there is only so long a public figure of Hux’s standing can disappear without attracting notice.  The guy was ripe to be dealt with even before Snoke appeared today.  But Kylo had wanted to make his Chancellor stew a bit.  Leia Organa always said that the worst part of being in Imperial detention was the waiting.  The worrying. Remembering those words, Kylo has let Hux cool his heels behind bars for almost a week now. 

 

You’d never know it by the looks of Armitage Hux, though.  Even in civilian clothes in jail, the man looks spit and polish with his patrician good looks and perfect hair.  It’s irritating.  And since Kylo is already thoroughly irritated, it sets him off. Foregoing the lecture he had planned, Kylo instead lashes out.

 

“Stay away from my wife!” he bellows.  And wait, that came out wrong.  Like a jealous husband and not a concerned leader.  And so, Kylo amends, “I exiled her for a reason!”

 

Hux has leapt to his feet at the unannounced arrival of his Supreme Leader.  He’s nearly toe to toe with Kylo in the small cell, one of very few men tall enough and brave enough to look him squarely in the eye.   

 

In contrast to Kylo’s loud raving, Armitage Hux is his usual calm, cool self.  “She was telling the truth, Ren.  Snoke is alive.  I’ve seen him myself.”

 

“I know,” Kylo snaps.

 

“You know??”  

 

“Yes.  I’ve seen him as he truly is.  Darth Vitiate.”  The immortal Emperor of the Sith, feared by all and trusted by none. 

 

“Vitiate?” Hux echoes the name blankly. “Who is that exactly?”

 

Kylo gives a brief tutorial.  “A man so heinous that the Jedi and the Sith—mortal enemies who agreed on nothing in life—agreed to work together to imprison him in the Force.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“That is Snoke’s true self.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“So when you plot with Snoke against me, remember what you risk,” Kylo hisses. 

 

Hux doesn’t deny his nefarious meddling. It’s a fact not lost on Kylo.  So much for their unspoken détente.

 

“Snoke has been put away for thousands of years and yet he’s still fucking with the galaxy!” Kylo hollers.  He’s venting now.  Still very much riled up from that frustrating interview with Snoke.  “See how he controls things as a mere projection of himself!  Just how much will he be capable of if I let him out??”

 

“You can let him out?” Hux whispers.

 

“Yes.   That’s why he trained me.   That’s why he wanted Skywalker dead.  He wants out with no one left who can oppose his will.”

 

It’s also why Snoke won’t kill him, Kylo knows.   Snoke needs him.  And that’s his trump card.  But it’s also Snoke’s motivation to depose him.  Because if Rey isn’t inducement enough for Kylo to join Snoke’s cause, then Snoke will steal his Empire back to create a deal.  Kylo will get his Empire back in exchange for letting his wily father-in-law out.  It’s the obvious quid pro quo.  But if that’s Snoke’s next move, then he has miscalculated yet again. Because Kylo was never Supreme Leader for his own self-aggrandizement.  Like every Skywalker gone before him, Kylo has an altruistic streak a lightyear wide.  It was never only about him.

 

Each Skywalker in their own way has tried to do the right thing.  People understood that about Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa.  But few realized it about Darth Vader.  His grandfather saw the galaxy ripped apart by the Clone Wars and the Republic crumbling from rampant corruption and poor leadership.  So, he and Palpatine took charge to bring peace and order where war had reigned.  They consolidated power after democracy had failed.  Yes, they went too far cracking down on the Rebellion.  But in the context of a successful Separatist rebellion only years before, that hardline stance made sense.  All decisions have to be considered in their context, Kylo now knows.  Because historical context explains a lot of things that seem reasonable in the moment which people in hindsight ascribe evil motives to.

 

Hux’s eyes keep wandering to his sword.  Clearly, his Chancellor fears he’s about to lose his head.  Apparently, that motivates Hux to get something off his conscience.  “Ren, I’m not the one you need to worry about,” he begins.

 

“That not news,” Kylo interrupts. “You’ve never been a credible threat.”

 

“Jerard is the real threat,” Hux answers.

 

The Force tells him that Hux believes this statement to be true.  But Kylo is unimpressed with this reveal. “That guy’s even less of a threat than you are.   Snoke is the threat.”   Kylo can’t allow himself to take his eye off his true enemy.   His unbeatable, immortal, overpowering, terrifying enemy who trolls him far too effectively.

 

Hux now shoots him a frustrated look.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he sneers as he curls his lip and lifts his chiseled chin.  Even in custody, Armitage Hux condescends to him.  It’s like it’s four years ago and they are trading barbs on the _Finalizer_ bridge as rivals for Snoke’s goodwill.

 

But everything has changed since then.  And that is why Kylo waves his hand at the door control panel to open it with the Force.  “Go,” he tells his prisoner, gesturing to the door.  “You are free to go.”

 

Hux blinks.  “You’re letting me go?”

 

“Yes.  Get back to work.  Go make yourself useful.” 

 

His Chancellor looks bewildered at this unexpected reprieve.  He even asks, “Why are you doing this?”

 

“Because you’re a good Chancellor and a popular guy and executing you won’t stop Snoke but it will make things harder for me,” Kylo rants.

 

“Yes,” Hux nods fervently to second this analysis.  “Thank you, Supreme Leader.”

 

“Stay away from my wife,” Kylo growls his reply.

 

“Snoke told me the same thing.”

 

“Then you had best obey that order,” Kylo announces as he stalks off back to his throne room.  He’ll give Hux a second chance this time, but there won’t be a third chance after this.

 

Four hours later, he’s done with the ceremonial interviews and one impromptu execution.  He should spend a few more hours reading reports, but Kylo is having trouble focusing.  His mind is on Snoke, as usual.  His paranoia has him analyzing the situation over and over again.  Hux’s reprieve has Kylo wondering if Rey deserves a second chance, too.

 

Has anything really changed since Rey left to find her father?  Snoke is still in his Force prison but projecting himself out as usual.  Even had Rey never left, Kylo suspects that Snoke would have showed himself eventually.  So what are the real consequences of Rey’s betrayal?  Well, her yellow eyes are cured and that’s a good thing.  And Snoke’s true motives and true past are revealed, which is helpful information.  Has he been too harsh on Rey given her conflicting loyalties?  Kylo wonders.  Is he just being stubborn?  Unwilling to give Snoke the win and throwing away his personal happiness because of it?  The problem is that his paranoia is well founded.   Because having Darth Vitiate on the loose is something both the Jedi and the Sith could agree was a bad thing.

 

Still . . . taking Rey back isn’t the same thing as springing her father from his prison.  But it’s definitely a step in that direction.  And it feels like a creeping admission that he’s still not his own man because he’s beholden to a Master.  Plus there ought to be consequences for disloyalty, Kylo maintains.  You shouldn’t get to disobey the Supreme Leader and get away with it.   Especially if you’re the Supreme Leader’s wife and a Force user.  And fundamentally that’s the real issue.  He doesn’t trust Rey to do the right thing in the future.  If he takes her back, she might turn traitor again.  Running off to balance the Force in order to spring her father from prison.  She’s a Chosen One, so she’s certainly capable of it.  Ultimately, that’s the fear that convinces Kylo to let things stand as is.

 

Heartsick over the situation, Kylo trudges back to his office.  He’ll read those reports after all.  But he’s just beginning when he senses the ripple in the Force that precedes the opening of the connection with Rey.   Kylo sighs heavily.  Fuck.  Not today.   Please, not today.  After Snoke and Hux, he’s not up for another confrontation.  Plus, he’s never going to get over Rey if the bond keeps opening.   Is this a coincidence?  Probably not.  The bond is a highly effective tool, and Snoke knows it.

 

Sure enough, seconds later Rey appears.  She’s asleep.

 

That’s unexpected.

 

As usual, Kylo can only see Rey and not her surroundings.  But she appears to have nodded off sitting up in a chair.  She’s fully dressed, slumped to the side with her chin on her chest, breathing softly.

 

“Rey,” he whispers.  “Rey?”  But she doesn’t stir.  And what is he doing trying to wake her up?   It will only lead to another argument.  It’s better this way with her asleep.

 

So instead, Kylo just looks.   Rey is like some snoozing madonna.  Her pretty features are relaxed and peaceful.  One hand rests on her swollen belly.  The other hand clutches her lightsaber.   Kylo peers closer.  Is that a pistol barrel peeking out from beneath her belly and the folds of her dress?  If so, Rey looks armed to the teeth for an afternoon nap.  And then it dawns on him. 

 

Rey is afraid.

 

It’s sobering.  Because his girl is not normally the jumpy, fearful type. 

 

It’s also galling.   Because Kylo knows that Snoke is controlling this bond and manipulating what he sees.  Just like he’s manipulating Rey.  She’s supposed to be afraid and he’s supposed to see it.  So Kylo will be induced to swoop into Naboo to rescue her.   And then, Vitiate will get his daughter embedded in Kylo’s Palace as his eyes and ears to know everything he’s doing. 

 

Kylo scowls.  He’s no fool.  He won’t fall for this.  Annoyed, he tears his eyes away from Rey.  He refuses to get played like this.

 

Why won’t this fucking bond close?   It seems like it’s going on forever. Kylo deliberately looks away.  But he can’t unsee what he’s seen.  Just like he can’t undo what is done.

 

It’s his same family dynamic all over again.  Children separated from their father.  To be raised in secret in hiding.   Ignorant of their true heritage.   Reared on lies to fulfill someone else’s agenda.  Primed for conflict and distrust.   His mother and his uncle lived this way.   He too was deceived about his grandfather’s identity.  But they were all deceived about Snoke and the true purpose of their magical bloodline.   It was never Jedi versus Sith.  Never Rebellion versus Empire.  Never First Order versus Republic.  Those conflicts were the smokescreens and sideshows for the real goal.  Three generations of loss and struggle, sixty years of on-and-off war, kin torn apart by politics and ideology, all to balance the Force in order to free their creator from his perpetual captivity.

 

Well, if that’s his destiny, Kylo rejects it.

 

And that means yet again the burden will fall to the next generation.  To the unwitting innocent kid who will be born into this mess.  Kylo frowns.  His son will inherit the task Lord Vader died before he could complete. It’s the task Luke Skywalker disdained and hid from, and the task his mother fought until the end.  It’s the task he himself walked away from, probably losing both his wife and his Empire in the process. Kylo’s eyes dart back to Rey.  To her pregnant belly in which nestles the next generation of Skywalkers.  They are the most powerful pawns the galaxy has ever seen.  Men and women whose choices shape history but never seem to yield lasting happiness. 

 

That poor kid, Kylo thinks.  He doesn’t deserve this.  

 

None of the Skywalkers have deserved their fates.  From Shmi Skywalker tortured to death by Tusken raiders to Padme Amidala inexplicably dying in childbirth as an otherwise healthy young woman with advanced medical care.  Death stalks them all—even those who are tangential but important to their clan.  Like Owen and Beru Lars murdered for sheltering his uncle on Tatooine, and Bail and Breha Organa who perished on Alderaan.  But life isn’t fair and the Force isn’t fair and Darth Vitiate doesn’t care about right and wrong, happiness and fulfillment.  He only cares about power.  And that makes Kylo determined to thwart him. 

 

But still . . . that poor kid.   He and Rey at least get to make their own choices.  But his son will not. 

 

Impulsively, Kylo steps forward.   Closer to Rey.  She’s still fast asleep, showing no signs of stirring.  Looking so helpless.  Kylo pauses, working his jaw slightly as he gazes down at her. 

 

“Rey,” he prompts again.  But she does not rouse.   And so, curious Kylo reaches forward like he had once reached forward to touch Rey’s hand through the bond.  Only this time he touches her pregnant belly.   Kylo wants to see something Vitiate cannot control to manipulate him.

 

And once again, the Force rushes up to flood his mind.  Showing the truth of the past and the truth of the future.  But it’s the truth from a certain point of view, of course.  For the Force is coy and rarely reveals its secrets in full.  And this time, the vision has nothing to do with Rey’s foster father on Jakku.  

 

Kylo sees a young farm boy.  Ten years old.  Small and skinny with the look of malnourishment and poverty about him.  The boy has the magic Force but there is no helpful wizard teacher watching and waiting nearby.   The only one who can help the boy is his Sith Lord father who wants him dead.  And thus begins the cycle of patricide that will plague the Skywalkers.  For the boy confronts his father and unleashes a power he does not understand and cannot control.  But once he starts, he cannot stop.  Before he is a teen, he’s a mass murderer.  No proper Sith Master will teach him, so he teaches himself.  Undisciplined and without direction, his ways are unorthodox from the beginning.  He’s less iconoclast than ignorant at the beginning.

 

There is another small boy. Well-kept but humble.  This slave kid’s circumstances are even worse than his predecessor.  He doesn’t even get a father to kill.  He gets a foster father in the form of the Jedi Master who buys him and a foster brother in the form of the Jedi mentor who will ultimately train him.  But in time the boy will find an enduring father figure in the Sith Master who lures him.  The boy will have a complicated love-hate relationship with the man until he throws him down a reactor shaft to save his own son.  Did he do it for love or for power?  Or maybe for both?  You decide.  But the act pretty much solidifies the father-killing, Master-slaying expedience of these men.

 

The next generation gets loving, stable homes, but they are born to war.  Caught up in conflicts they don’t fully understand.  This next young man will be half-trained in his Jedi craft and sent to kill his secret Sith Lord father to save the galaxy.  Only he can’t do it.  The father humbles him instead.  And when the son returns to finish the job, once again he can’t do it.  This time, he throws down his sword and prepares himself to die instead.  He is a Jedi, like his father before him.   But what the boy will never admit to anyone—least of all himself—is that he is also a Sith, like his father before him.  For like all the rest of his clan, this boy is born conflicted.  Intentionally torn apart between the two sides of the Force.

 

Then, Kylo sees his younger self.  He feels abandoned by his mostly absent father for whom his uncle is enlisted as a stand-in.  In the end, he will kill them both.  He will confront his Jedi Master uncle and unleash a power he does not understand and cannot control.  Then years later, he will get revenge on his true father for his too-little, too-late attempt at parenting his adult son.  But Kylo will reach the zenith in Skywalker patricide attempts when he ignites a sword through the projection of Snoke.  The assassination fails but earns him some respect.  For like his uncle confronting Vader, like Vader confronting Sidious, and like Snoke confronting Dramath, this is a necessary right of passage.

 

And now, Kylo sees yet another Skywalker boy.  This young princeling will surprise his unsuspecting father meditating in Mustafar Castle.  “Are you Kylo Ren?” the boy demands.  “Are you my father?”  Grey streaked Kylo turns in jaw dropping amazement at the unfamiliar stranger.  “Who are you?  How did you get in here?” Kylo rasps.  But as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows the answer. This is the boy he didn’t want born of the wife he cast aside.  Only that baby is grown now and much aggrieved about his circumstances.  And thus begins the next generation’s cycle of father-son conflict. 

 

Fuck.  Kylo has seen enough.  He jerks away his hand now as he stands there, still processing what the Force has shown him. 

 

You can’t win.  That’s the only message Kylo can glean from his bleak vision.  It’s discouraging.  He tries his best to do the right thing.  Hell, every Skywalker did the same.  And in the end, everyone loses and the cycle begins again.  Probably until someone lets old Vitiate out.

 

Rey’s voice breaks his forlorn reverie. “You came.”

 

What?  Kylo looks down in confusion.  Rey is awake, looking at him expectantly.  Rey looks so relieved and so hopeful in the moment.  Kylo almost doesn’t have the heart to tell her no.   But then he remembers that Rey caused this situation, even if she is a victim of it, too.  So he tells her flatly, “No. This is the bond open.”

 

“You’re not on Naboo?”

 

“No.”

 

“O-oh.” Rey deflates.  “Yes.  Of course. I just thought for a moment maybe you had . . . well, it doesn’t matter now . . . ”  She looks down and then away.  Flushing slightly.

 

“I’m sorry it’s like this,” he gulps, feeling inexplicably guilty for her disappointment.  Kylo never wanted things to end up like this.  He did his best to ensure they wouldn’t.  But here they are anyway. 

 

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” she begins.

 

But he shuts her down.  “Yes.  It does.”  Maybe he can’t win, but Kylo’s going to do the right thing regardless.  For the good of his Empire, which is all he has left now. 

 

The bond closes.  Leaving Kylo to finish his bad day alone. 

 

 


	45. Chapter 45

Rey’s complaints to Snoke about his meddling with the Force bond seem to make headway.  Of course, Snoke denies having actual control over the bond he created, but Rey is skeptical.  In any event, for several months, the bond does not open. 

 

That’s a relief.  There are no more frustrating, disappointing conversations.  No more hours spent fuming afterwards, thinking of things she wishes she had said.  Instead, Kylo Ren becomes a public figure Rey watches from afar on the holonet.   These days, Kylo is as much the masked enigma to her as he is to everyone else.  And that’s when Rey begins to miss him the most. 

 

Maybe that is natural since he is the first person she ever became close to.  Kylo is her one and only romance.   He was also her closest, longest friend.  Her time with Kylo had a profound effect on her, and in its aftermath, Rey feels a real sense of loss.  Sure, Kylo isn’t perfect, but neither is she.  And during her yellow-eyed Dark phase, Rey knows she did and said a lot of regrettable things.  Kylo stood by her then, trying to help.  Rey wonders now if leaving to find her father was the last straw for an already broken relationship, or whether that decision truly was the turning point in Kylo’s mind. 

 

It would be easier to break up were there not a child involved.  Because all the hours Rey spends on the holonet reading baby advice tends to make her feel very alone.   Rey gets down as she reads articles with suggestions for how dad can help out in those first few weeks.  She stares bleakly at the accompanying pictures of couples holding newborns looking tired but happy.  But beyond the practicalities of changing diapers and midnight feedings, it is impossible to prepare for a baby and not think about what it means to be a family and to rear a child.  This is the biggest step Rey will ever make in life.  Jobs come and go, friends come in and out of your life, even spouses are not always forever.  But a child is forever.  For as long as she lives, Rey will be this child’s mother.   Sure, plenty of women raise children on their own.  Luckily, Rey doesn’t lack for financial support like many single moms.  But she does lack for emotional support.  And that, together with her own near feral upbringing, has Rey scared for whether she is up to the task.

 

It doesn’t help that when Rey longed for a family back on Jakku, she always envisioned the picture-perfect kind.   With a married mom and dad who would welcome her home.   That’s the kind of home life Rey would like to give her child.  Except that doesn’t seem possible now.  As her due date creeps up, that reality is making Rey anxious and guilty.  More and more, she wonders if she owes it to her son to at least try to patch things up with Kylo.  If only to avoid some galactic civil war twenty years from now between estranged father and aggrieved son.  Rey thinks hard about approaching Kylo.  Once or twice she almost sends him a message asking to talk.  But other days, Rey feels far too angry and misjudged to even attempt a reconciliation.  So mostly, she drifts in indecision.

 

That sojourn into the World Between Worlds in Snoke’s temple seems to haunt her.  Seeing a happy family life with Kylo has her daydreaming about whether that reality could actually come true.  So in an effort to get it out of her system, one afternoon Rey heads back to the temple alone. 

 

It takes only a few minutes to reach her destination.  Per Snoke’s insistence, the coordinates for the temple are saved on the speeder’s navigation system.   After she pulls up, Rey concentrates briefly in the Force to open the ancient sacred space just like Snoke taught her.  Stepping inside the gloomy interior, Rey reminds herself to keep turning left as she heads for the mysterious portal into the alternate realities that the Force has rejected. 

 

Sure enough, she finds it easily.  Then, she hesitates.  Rey rubs her sore belly as she stares bleakly at the wrinkle in time and space.  Why is she here again?  Honestly, it’s because she’s hoping to see Kylo.  And since she can’t see him in person, she’s hoping to see him in the Force.  The first time Rey experienced the World Between Worlds, it had been so strange that she hadn’t appreciated the circumstances.  Now, she wants a second chance.  If she could just go back and relive that daydream of a contented life together, everything would be perfect.  She needs this, Rey knows.  For as her due date approaches, her anxiety grows.  She’s worried about the birth, about the responsibility of motherhood, and about the conflicts that threaten her.  All she asks for today is a brief escape into happiness.

 

And so, with a deep breath, Rey gingerly steps into the portal.

 

The first thing she senses is the blast furnace heat.  

 

Then, the acrid smell of hot metal. 

 

Next, the it-hurts-to-blink dryness. 

 

Rey immediately knows she’s on Jakku.  Looking down, she discovers she’s back in her rough desert clothes as well, with her arm wraps on and her satchel slung across her body.  She reaches a hand up to feel at her trio of hair knots and her dry, sandy locks.  Yes, this is her old scavenger self.  She’s not a pregnant exiled empress in this reality. 

 

The sound of approaching ion engines abruptly distracts Rey from her personal inspection.  She has visitors.  Rey automatically grabs for her staff and peeks out her AT-AT.  Two First Order TIE fighters are descending to land.  They are not the run-of-the-mill variety.   These are the fancy ones with the long wings. 

 

Friend or foe?   Rey isn’t sure.  But she’ll find out soon enough.

 

The first pilot plunks his ship down, throws the hatch, yanks off his helmet, and starts climbing out.  The other pilot takes his time settling his ship down.  By the time the second ship lands on Jakku’s shifting sands, the first pilot is standing with his weapon pulled and aimed at Rey. 

 

“Freeze!” he hollers.  “Drop your weapon!”

 

“It’s just a stick,” Rey replies tartly.  Her staff is no match for that sidearm at this range. 

 

“Drop your weapon!” the man repeats.

 

Rey complies.  Then her eyes dart to the second pilot now hopping down from his craft.  It’s Kylo Ren minus the mask, cape, and surcoat.

 

“Hey, Rey,” Kylo calls.  He flashes that rare lopsided smile that reminds her of Han Solo.  “I’m here to rescue you.”

 

Her eyes dart to the pilot threatening her with a blaster.  “This is some rescue.”

 

Kylo frowns at his colleague holding her at gun point.  “Stand down!” he orders sharply.  “She’s a friend.”

 

“But she brandished a weapon, Sir.”

 

Kylo looks annoyed at being questioned.  He reaches out a hand and plucks the blaster from the man’s grip with the Force. Then, Kylo adjusts from stun to kill, points the blaster at the man, and fires.  It’s a clean kill shot to the chest followed by a second shot to the head before the body hits the ground.   That’s marksmanship Han Solo would be proud of, Rey thinks, even if the act is of dubious justification.

 

“You just killed that guy!” she protests.

 

Kylo could care less.  “He was a problem I needed to solve anyway.   We don’t need witnesses.”  His victim is forgotten as Kylo moves on. “Enough about him.  I’m here for you. How are you, babe?” Kylo steps forward to envelope her in a comforting hug. 

 

Selfishly forgetting the dead man face down in the sand, Rey revels in the moment.  This is everything she needs right now.  Thank you, Force, Rey thinks, as she nestles into Kylo’s strong arms, clinging back tightly.  This embrace isn’t real in her life, but it sure feels real here.  And it helps.  It really helps. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Kylo senses something is amiss.

 

“I missed you,” Rey murmurs into his chest.  It’s a statement from her own reality, not this one.  But she means it with all her heart.  “I really missed you.”

 

He pulls back now, a serious look on his long face.  “Snoke knows.   I don’t know how, but I think he knows about us.”

 

“Snoke knows?” Rey echoes, unsure of what this means. 

 

“Yes.  That’s why I’m here so soon again.  I brought you a ship.  You need to leave.  You need to hide.”

 

“Snoke knows,” she repeats again. 

 

“Once I kill my uncle, things will be different.  But so long as there is a Jedi Master alive who might teach you and make you an enemy, Snoke won’t let you live.”

 

“But I’m not part of the war—I’m not a Jedi—I’m not your enemy—“ Rey sputters.

 

He fixes her with a stern look.  “We’ve been over this before.  In his mind, you’re too powerful of a Force user to live.  Even if you’re untrained, you are an existential threat.”

 

“How will that change when Luke Skywalker dies?” she challenges.

 

“It might not,” he admits.  “Look, we’re going to have to separate for a bit.  It’s for your safety.”  Kylo looks deep into her eyes.  “I don’t want to lose you,” he says softly.  Rey hears the ‘I love you’ behind those words loud and clear.  It brings a lump to her throat.  All she can do is stare back and nod mutely for a moment.

 

“Where should I go?” she asks when she finds her voice.

 

“Anywhere but the Hosnia system and the Resistance.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Stay away from the First Order.  Just find someplace quiet to lay low.”

 

“How will I find you?” Rey worries aloud.

 

His answer is wholly unsatisfactory.  “We will have to trust the Force.”

 

“The Force??”  What?  “How exactly would that work?”

 

“Rey, if I know where you are, Snoke might pick it from my head.  We can’t risk that.  This has to be a clean break for now.  Don’t worry.  I will find you.”   Those are confident words but even Kylo looks skeptical of his own plan.

 

“But—“

 

He cuts her off.  “One day we will be together.  I promise you.  If I have to kill my Master for you, I will.”

 

“I know.” Kylo already did that very thing in her own reality.  To save her from execution. And come to think of it, that might have been the first, best ‘I love you’ of them all.  “I know,” Rey repeats softly.  She’s touched by this Kylo’s depth of feeling.  It makes her wistful for the days when her own Kylo cared this much.  If he starts talking destiny next, Rey just might burst into tears from the bittersweet irony of it all. 

 

But he moves on to more mundane matters.  “Think you can locate the transponder in this thing?” Kylo gestures to the TIE the dead man flew.

 

Rey nods.  “If it’s where they used to put it, I can.  Let me get some tools.”  She ducks back inside her AT-AT to grab for a few things.  Then, she heads under one of the elongated wings to find the backside of the ship.  “Yep, it’s here.”  She spots the standard tracking device embedded into every military ship.  It’s intended as a search and rescue feature, but it could be used to find her. 

 

“What model is this?” Rey asks as she gets to work.

 

“TIE Infiltrator. They’ve been around since the Empire days, but they’re still pretty rare.”

 

“I like the wings.”

 

“So do I.  It makes them spin like dream,” Kylo grins. It’s his favorite move, she knows.  “Need some help with that?”

 

“Nah.  I’ve got it.”  Pulling scrap is her thing.  Rey does not need help.  “What are we going to do with it?” she asks.

 

“Are those sinking fields you told me about anywhere near here?”

 

“Yes.  Good idea,” Rey seconds his suggestion.  “If the First Order detects the beacon, they’ll think the whole ship got swallowed.”

 

“And then they’ll stop looking for it,” Kylo completes the thought. “It’s the perfect plot except I couldn’t figure out how to get the ship here without help.”  His eyes dart over to the unlucky dead man who was in the right place at the wrong time.  “I guess officially he will die in the crash.”

 

Rey frowns and sighs as she continues yanking at the transponder tech.  It’s small and easy to disconnect. “What’s done is done, I guess.”

 

“Whatever it takes to keep you safe,” Kylo shrugs.  He’s his usual expedient self.  But he’s also very devoted in this reality.  So like the man Rey remembers from her months on Coruscant.

 

“Done,” Rey announces as she clips the last few wires and pulls out the transponder equipment.

 

“That’s my scavenger girl,” Kylo approves with a grin.  “Climb inside,” he motions to the ship.  “I want to make sure you can fly this thing.”

 

“I can fly anything,” Rey huffs as she stuffs the small transponder into her satchel.

 

“Just humor me,” Kylo cajoles as he gives her a boost up.

 

Rey goes along with him.   She can’t say no to this man.  Once inside, Kylo sits down in the pilot’s seat and Rey perches on his knees.  From over her shoulder he begins pointing out all the critical controls.  “Here’s your shields . . . the navicomputer . . . stabilizers . . . front and aft . . . ”

 

Rey chimes in too as she recognizes from the Jakku wrecks the modernized but still strikingly similar Imperial TIE tech.  “Hyperfuel gauge, subspace radio, scanner . . .  where’s the targeting computer?”

 

“Over here.  But you don’t need that.  Use the Force, Rey.  Look here,” he grabs the throttle in front of them and starts demonstrating the firing mechanisms.  “Laser cannons to the right.  Switch to the left and it’s proton torpedoes.  But you only have eight of those.  And here,” he demonstrates yet another lever, “are the mag pulses.  Got it?”

 

“Got it.”

 

“These things make point four past lightspeed, so it’s a decent ship. But you won’t win any races in it.”

 

“Do you care where I ditch it?”

 

“Not at all,” he answers.  It’s a low throaty chuckle in her ear that sends a shiver down her spine.  Rey now leans back against Kylo and his arms encircle her from behind.  They sit like that a long moment in silence.

 

“Just be safe,” Kylo whispers finally.  “Be safe so when the war is over and Snoke is dead, we can be together.”

 

It’s a lover’s promise, heartfelt and sincere.  But it’s also a lie.  Because Kylo will never kill Snoke, Rey knows.   Even if he slices a sword straight through the guy.  That means in this reality, there is no happy ending for them.  And that knowledge, coupled with the sexy nearness of Kylo, has Rey wanting to seize the moment.  To enjoy some stolen togetherness while she can. 

 

Abruptly, Rey breaks free and stands to turn around.  She sits back down in Kylo’s lap, straddling him face to face.  “Forget the future.  We have today,” Rey whispers.  Then she pulls him down for a kiss. 

 

When they break panting from their passion, Kylo looks a little surprised.  “You said you wanted to keep it light—to take things slow—“

 

“Kiss me,” she interrupts.  Rey is unabashedly the aggressor.  “Kiss me harder,” she moans into his mouth.

 

That’s all the encouragement he needs.  Kylo’s hands are all over her.  Rey luxuriates in it.  And she wants more.   “Don’t stop,” she urges.

 

Those words embolden him further and now his hands slip under her shirt.  He’s fumbling around so Rey takes matters into her own hands, lurching back to yank it off.  She’s naked to the waist underneath.

 

Kylo sucks in an audible breath and his eyes flash down and then up.  Rey knows that look.  It’s the look of lust. 

 

Rey starts tearing at the shoulder clasp to Kylo’s uniform now.  But he bats away her hands to do it himself.  It’s like he’s as anxious as she is to feel skin on skin. And just look at his muscled chest and arms. Kylo is far from bulky, but what bulk exists is ripped.  Rey loves every inch of him.  From his long hangdog face, to his wild hair, to his demigod physique, to his big, pale, hairy feet.  And here she is, a sweaty, sandy unkept, unwashed mess.  Rey is not at her most alluring. But she’s far too worked up to be self-conscious about it. 

 

Rey keeps grinding in Kylo lap.  She can feel how ready he is for her and she is for him.  And that’s when he rasps, “We need to stop.”

 

“No.” The word comes out sharply.  Like a command.  Rey reaches down to unfasten his pants and dips her hand inside.  The move elicits a gasp followed by a deep groan as Kylo closes his eyes. “I want you,” Rey nearly growls.  “I want you so much.”   She’s got both of her hands on him now.    Teasing and handling him like she knows he likes.  It’s carnal knowledge from another version of them in a different life in which she and Kylo made love in a palace nearly every night.  Not like these star-crossed chaste lovers who hug and promise in the desert.

 

“You said you wanted to take things slow.”   His words cause her to look up.  She catches his eyes and they seem to glitter with passion.   Damn, Rey thinks, he’s so handsome.  So intense.  So complicated.  So everything.

 

Maybe it’s all the pregnancy hormones, but Rey is feeling horny as Hell and needy too.  She wants this.  She really wants this.  In this life, she and Kylo may only have this fleeting tryst before they part forever.   And in real life, they have nothing left except bitterness and hard feelings.  So Rey refuses to let this chance slip by. 

 

“I changed my mind,” Rey now disavows all prior hesitation. 

 

“Are you sure?”  Kylo’s voice is ragged when he pants out his honest response. “Because this needs to stop or I won’t be able to stop—“

 

“Don’t stop.”  Rey half-stands to yank down her pants, awkwardly dragging them off along with her faded panties.  She’s naked now except for her arm wraps.  “Don’t stop,” she urges.  “We may only have this.”

 

“Are you sure?” Kylo yelps as she poises above him, one hand ready to guide him in. “Like sure sure?”

 

“Yes.  Let’s do this,” Rey answers firmly.

 

“Here?  Now??”

 

“Yes,” Rey hisses as she settles back down and sheathes his body with hers, straddling his lap.  Kylo sucks in an audible breath. “Easy, warlord,” she soothes, sounding way more experienced than she should.  “I’ve got this.”

 

She does, taking control as she starts to move.  Kylo slumps back with his eyes closed.  Pleasure is written all over his face.  This intimacy is so primal, so natural, so instinctive.  At its best, it’s an experience like no other.  How Rey has missed this closeness.  Sex isn’t everything, but it is important.  Passion is the glue that helped to bond her with Kylo.  He was always the one for grand words and big declarations.  Rey is far less of an emotive talker.   She prefers to show her feelings rather than say them.  That’s why she’s determined to give them both something to remember now.

 

This is makeup sex for her, an apology of sorts and an offer of forgiveness, too.  All meant for a different version of this man.  Oh, Kylo, what has happened to us?   But Rey knows the answer in her heart.  They were never compatible in the first place.  Their differences ran deeper than the war and the Force. She and Kylo fundamentally wanted separate things.  She wanted to find her family to heal the wounds of the past.  To become a normal girl with a normal life. To make Jakku a distant memory.  But all that normalcy was not for Kylo. He wanted to rule the galaxy and to balance the Force.  To break free of the daunting legacy he was born to by superseding all the other Skywalkers.  In the end, she ran from destiny while Kylo rushed to embrace it.

 

Did he try too hard to mold her into his ideal?   To make them the power couple she had previously turned down on the _Supremacy_?  And did she go along with it too long?  Was she wrong to acquiesce to serve in the Senate, to beg for Kylo’s teaching, to agree to be his wife?   Did she mislead him? Or was she misleading herself?   In the end, she wasn’t the ride-or-die consort he wanted and he wasn’t the experienced teacher she needed.  But regardless of their problems, there were good times too.  Lots of them. And Rey misses those.  From the beginning, she and Kylo had an electric connection.  It made life exciting.  Often fun.  Never predictable.

 

“Oh, Gods.   This is amazing.  Where did you learn this?” Kylo chokes out.  “No, wait.  Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

 

She learned it from him.  Well, they learned it together. Their mutual lack of experience had turned out to be a boon. Allowing them to explore the pleasures of the flesh together, with no one at a disadvantage and no explaining necessary.  They were two enthusiastic virgins who quickly made up for lost time.  But Rey can’t explain that background in this context.

 

So instead, she answers, “I love you.”  She never got a chance to tell Kylo that properly.  It’s like they missed their chance.  Because at first, Kylo’s earnest romance had scared her and his tactics and their history kept her wary. Then by the time Rey had gotten comfortable with the idea of loving Kylo, she had already lost him.  And so, she will tell this other man in this other life how she feels in order to live her fantasy reunion to the fullest.

 

“Wait—what??”  Kylo’s eyes pop open.

 

Rey smiles as she says it again.  “I love you.  You’re such a mess, but I’m a mess.  Forgive my mistakes and I’ll forgive yours.”

 

“It’s a deal.”

 

And now, Kylo snakes an arm around her waist and hoists her up. Suddenly, she’s pinned against the wall of the TIE fighter, her legs wrapped around Kylo’s hips as he stands to thrust hard into her.  Ultimately, they end up on the floor in a clumsy, uncomfortable position that neither minds one bit.  They are rolling around in a cramped ship engaged in hot, sweaty, urgent sex. 

 

In the blissful aftermath, Rey’s head lolls on Kylo’s chest.  She’s utterly relaxed and happy.  Yes, that was the physical and emotional release she needed, even if it’s pretend.  She and Kylo are even snuggled close like she remembers them doing in their palace bed.  He’s stroking her hair, and that’s nice. 

 

“I’ll never look at a TIE fighter the same way again,” Kylo smirks.  He’s feeling quite the stud.

 

“How much time do we have?” Rey asks.   She’s hoping for a round two.

 

“We should already be gone,” he answers with a sigh.  “Promise me that you will take care of yourself.  Do whatever it takes to survive.”

 

“I’ll be fine.  I can handle myself,” she assures him. “Survival is my thing.”

 

Then a thought occurs to Kylo.  “What if you’re pregnant?”  He sits up and frowns.   “I guess that was risky of us.”

 

Oh Kylo, Rey thinks, you have no idea.  Just being in this man’s orbit is dangerous.  A baby is the least of their concerns in this reality.  But Rey tries to keep it light. “Don’t worry.  I’ll name him Anakin if it’s a boy,” she jokes. 

 

“Padme for a girl,” he responds with an easy smile.

 

“Got it,” she nods. 

 

All too soon, they are dressed and saying their goodbyes.  Kylo is stuffing credits into her satchel and promising everything he can.  But he looks worried—very worried—despite all his protestations to the contrary.

 

“Will I ever see you again?” he asks suddenly.  Those plaintive words undercut all his prior forced sounding confidence.

 

Rey searches his expressive face and swallows hard.  She doesn’t have an answer.  Not in this life or her own life.  So she punts to let him down easy.  “What does your heart tell you?” she responds.

 

This is Kylo’s moment for one of those dreamy, romantic declarations about destiny.  About how they are fated to be together by the Force.  Because that’s really the last shred of hope Rey has that things will work out between them in the end.  Those statements had seemed so ridiculous when she first heard them.  But now, she needs that reassurance.   Say it.   Please say it, Rey silently hopes.  Because even if it’s another version of them in a life they will never live, it will help.  Hope always helps, just like Leia Organa always said.

 

“Yes,” Kylo decides.  “We will be together again.  The Force is with us.”

 

It’s close, but not quite right.  So Rey nods and adds her spin, “We are destiny.”  And just saying the words out loud helps her feel better.

 

“What if you get pregnant?” Kylo frets again.  Apparently in this life, he’s far more concerned with that possibility than he is in real life.  It’s galling how her pregnancy and the baby’s fast approaching birth have consumed Rey’s life and yet Kylo likely won’t even know of the baby’s birth. 

 

“If I get pregnant, what do you want me to do?” Rey asks.

 

Kylo thinks a moment.  “Have the baby.  Love the baby.  I will find you both . . . somehow . . . ”  For he knows what she knows:  Skywalkers never get lost or hidden for long.  In the clan of the Chosen Ones, you don’t get to stay anonymous. 

 

“Okay,” Rey agrees, feeling relieved and comforted by his answer.  “For now, we trust in the Force.”

 

“Yeah.  I guess it’s the best we can do. Do you want to drop that transponder in the desert or should I?” Kylo asks. 

 

“I’ll do it.  I know where to go.”

 

“Alright. I guess this is it then.”

 

One last kiss, one final hug, and then they part. Rey drops the transponder in the sinking fields and sets course for Dantooine.  As the TIE lurches forward into hyperspace, Rey blinks and she’s back in the Snoke’s temple.  Back in her own reality.  Heavily pregnant with a kid Kylo doesn’t want.  Living in exile in Naboo.

 

Rey leaves the temple feeling more confused than ever.  The World Between Worlds feels a lot like that cave on Ahch-To:  it yields more questions than it does answers.  But maybe that is the nature of the Force.

 

Rey returns home to find a message from Snoke.  He’s off masquerading as Senator Rey in the Rim. Snoke even has an apartment to complete the ruse as he walks openly among the public disguised as her.  Snoke is gone several days a week in this endeavor.  He calls it ‘going undercover.’  But while he is gone, he always checks on her.  Usually, Snoke sends her silly selfies with strangers or newsfeed articles he finds amusing.  Sometimes it’s more serious weighty matters. 

 

Today, Snoke simply asks how she is doing and Rey responds that she went to the temple. She wanted to see Kylo in the Force.  It was a mistake, she writes.  My Apprentice is stubborn, Snoke replies, like the rest of his clan.  Shall I resume haunting him again?  Because that was lots of fun.  Rey says no.  She instinctively knows that more Snoke meddling will only fuel Kylo’s paranoia.  Snoke relents and tells her to go eat something and put her feet up.  You’re too pregnant to go traipsing around old temples, he decrees.  Now go take a nap or I will put you under house arrest.

 

But Rey’s mind is too troubled for sleep. She spends the late afternoon aimlessly wandering around her expansive rented villa.  She’s on the balcony staring out at the picturesque Naboo countryside, marveling at how different it is from Jakku, when the Force bond suddenly opens. 

 

Rey whirls to find Kylo.  Where is he?   What is he doing?   Rey can’t tell.  She can only see him, not his surroundings. 

 

He blinks and crosses his arms as he surveys her. “You changed your hair.”

 

She eyes him back.  “Same uniform.”

 

He bristles. “New uniform.”  And yeah, as she looks closer, Rey sees that this one is somewhat revised.  But the changes are minimal.  Kylo still has that same all-black, stately master of the universe proto-Vader thing going on.

 

Kylo seems fixated on her hair.  “It’s . . . different.”  That’s not a compliment.  “You’re different.”

 

“It’s a disguise.”  Rey reaches up to smooth her strawberry blonde waves.   She had taken Hux’s advice to heart and made a few changes to her appearance.  These days, she wears casual, inexpensive maternity clothes instead of her high fashion princess dresses.  Her tightly coiffed chignon and trademark red lipstick are gone, too.  Now she wears a long, loose bob many shades lighter than her natural color.  The look is young, fresh, and everyday.  And it’s a far cry from the way she presented herself as Senator Rey.

 

Kylo is still considering her appearance. “It’s more than that.  You’re uh . . . uhm . . .”

 

“Super pregnant,” she supplies the missing words.

 

He nods.  His eyes are huge as he keeps staring.  Like she’s some sort of freak or something. 

 

It makes Rey self-conscious.  She reaches a hand to smooth over her itchy, distended belly.    “I’ve only got three weeks left.  Maybe less.  My due date is a little iffy given the circumstances.”  Rey gives a nervous shrug as she pats her hair again. “I’m probably the only human woman ever who is pregnant over a year,” she jokes weakly.   She’s trying to keep things light and friendly. 

 

“Three weeks,” Kylo repeats blankly.   “I guess I didn’t realize so much time had passed.”

 

“I’m thinking of naming him Anakin.  After your grandfather.”

 

“Fine.”  Kylo doesn’t look pleased or touched by the gesture.  He mostly looks weirded out.  It’s a juvenile response that annoys Rey, but she does her best to ignore it. 

 

“Snoke likes Anakin,” she continues, “but if you have another name you would prefer, we can go with it.”  This is his son, after all.  “We could call him Kylo and make him a junior,” she offers softly.

 

He shakes his head.  “Anakin is fine.  I don’t care.”

 

“Yeah.  I can tell,” Rey snaps.  Kylo’s indifference hurts.  Rey has become very protective of her unborn son.

 

Kylo is defensive at her censure.  “I’m not even sure that’s my—“

 

“It’s your kid!” she hollers.  So much for keeping her cool.  But nothing gets Rey more angry than Kylo thinking she cheated on him.  “This baby is your son!  Admit it!” she yells.

 

He looks away and relents, “It’s my kid.”

 

Rey glares at Kylo’s averted profile. An awkward silence falls between them.

 

He breaks it by dropping a bombshell. “I guess this is a good time to tell you that we’re divorced.”

 

“W-Whaaat?”  Huh?  Rey gapes. 

 

“I had the lawyers draw up the papers a few weeks ago. It’s official.  I made sure the high command all know.  Several key Senators as well.  I wasn’t planning to go public with it unless you want me to.”

 

“Why?” Rey demands, feeling stung. She didn’t see this move coming.  “Why are you doing this?”

 

“The official grounds are desertion and treason.”

 

“Treason??” Rey breathes.

 

He nods. “For conspiring with an enemy of the state—“

 

“I’m not your enemy!  Neither is Snoke!”

 

“—and for attempting to pass off another man’s child as my rightful heir—“

 

“This is your son!” she shrieks.  The pregnancy hormones are really kicking in now.

 

“But the real reason is to protect you both.”

 

“Oh.”  That explanation takes some of the heat out of her anger.  Not much, but some.

 

Kylo keeps talking in that same flat, declamatory tone.  “You and the boy are permanently exiled from Coruscant.  He is expressly disavowed as my son and heir.  Made illegitimate and his paternity denied. The child will have no claim to rule.”

 

Wait—what?  Did she hear that right?  Rey is aghast that their child will be so officially abandoned. “You are disowning your own son!   Disinheriting your own flesh and blood!”  This is way worse than Kylo simply ignoring them on Naboo.

 

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Kylo condescends as he continues his mansplaining, “but the less important he is and the more suspect his claim to the throne, the less incentive there is to use him as a pawn.”  Kylo meets her eyes steadily. “Or to kill him,” he adds.

 

“But—”

 

“It’s the same for you.”

 

Rey fumes.  If looks could kill, Leader Ren would be a Force ghost. 

 

“Making you and the boy irrelevant protects you,” he concludes.  “It’s not a perfect fix, since anyone who succeeds in usurping me will want to get rid of you both to tie up loose ends,” he concedes.  “But it might help keep them from drawing you into their plot.  Being on the sidelines is better than being in the middle,” he reasons.  Kylo sighs and looks away as he continues.  “I have also set up an account for you.  It’s more credits than you could ever spend.  I know your father is keeping you, but I won’t have it said that I’m a deadbeat dad—“

 

“I have a better idea,” Rey interrupts.  “Let me come home.”

 

He looks up sharply.   She has surprised him.

 

Rey has surprised herself, too.

 

She takes a deep breath and says it more gently this time. “I want to come home.  I want to have this baby on Coruscant.  I want us to be together as a family.”  Rey finally gives voice to the daydream fantasies she keeps having.  The ones in which her son has the two-parent family Rey herself never had.  The ones in which she and Kylo are happy again. 

 

Kylo digests this request a long moment. His eyes narrow as he purses his lips and works his jaw. 

 

“Did he put you up to this?”

 

“He?” Rey blinks.   She isn’t following. 

 

“Vitiate!” Kylo snarls. “Is this his idea?”

 

“No!”  Rey feels a bit sheepish as she feels herself blush. “This is my idea.   He doesn’t even know.”  But he would approve, for sure. 

 

“So you are prepared to renounce him?” Kylo starts setting conditions.

 

“Define renounce.”  Rey begins negotiating.  It’s an old habit from Jakku.

 

“Disavow.  Reject.  Condemn.”

 

Rey doesn’t like those words.  “What exactly are you asking of me?”

 

Kylo spells it out. “You must choose.  Him or me.  You don’t get to have it both ways.”

 

“He’s my father,” she automatically protests.

 

“I’m your husband and the father of your child,” Kylo counters. 

 

“Snoke is not your enemy.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“He’s rather proud of you actually,” Rey reveals.  It’s a little perverse, but the more Kylo stands up to Snoke, the more Snoke respects him.  Rey doesn’t get it.  It must be a man thing.

 

“You’re a fool to trust that guy.”  Kylo gives her a pointed look.  “I’m never letting him out.  And I forbid you to release him either.”

 

Rey frowns. “Hasn’t he been punished enough?”

 

“Do you hear yourself?” Her husband is indignant. “He’s Mister Starkiller, Rey.  And that’s one of his more minor acts of violence.  I could tell you tales that might shock you.”

 

Probably not.  Rey has heard quite a few yarns of her father’s exploits.  She has no illusions about what he’s capable of.  But still . . . Snoke has never been anything but welcoming and loving towards her.  So she argues loyally, “He’s changed.”

 

“No, he hasn’t.  Guys like that don’t change.”

 

“Darth Vader did.”

 

“Well, Darth Vitiate hasn’t.”  Kylo’s face hardens. “Unless and until you break with that man, your exile stands.”

 

“So you would choose your Empire over your family?” Rey complains.  “Over your own son?”

 

Kylo’s face is a sneer.  He refuses to be shamed. “I chose Snoke over Uncle Luke.  I chose the First Order over my parents.  And I choose my Empire over the wife I don’t trust with the father-in-law I don’t trust either.”

 

“Your paranoia is ruining our family!” Rey explodes.  “I didn’t betray you!  I went looking for my father—“

 

“Liar!   You knew exactly what you were doing when you left!  Tell me,” Kylo hisses.  “Would you do it again?”

 

That’s a question Rey has asked herself many times.  Was it worth it to find her father and learn the truth?   Honestly, she can’t decide.  Rey wavers back and forth.  Because she was in a miserable downward spiral when she was yellow-eyed and lost in Darkness with Kylo.   But ruining their relationship has cost them and their unborn son a lot.  Rey is honest as she answers, “I don’t know . . . ”

 

“That’s a yes,” Kylo snaps.  His face is ugly now with righteous hurt. 

 

“I hate this,” Rey wails as she feels hot tears flood her eyes.  “I hate what’s happened to us.”

 

“Yeah, well you did this!” he accuses. 

 

“And you can’t forgive me?” she wails.  Tears have begun to fall now. “For the sake of the future?  For the sake of our son?”

 

Kylo stands firm. “I won’t forgive you until you acknowledge that what you did was wrong.”

 

“I never meant to hurt you,” she sniffs as she wipes at her streaming eyes.

 

“Yeah, well, you did.”

 

Rey nods at his bitter truth.  “I hurt myself too.  And I have ruined things for the baby.  Kylo, it’s not too late. Let me come home—“

 

“No.”

 

“Let me come home and we can work this out--”

 

“No.”

 

“I will talk to my father.  He will understand.   He wants us to be together.  To be happy.”

 

“I’ll bet.”   Kylo’s tone is peevish and sarcastic.  She hates it. 

 

He’s feeling hurt?   Well, she is too. “You never really loved me, did you?” Rey gripes.

 

The comment sets him off. “You,” he rages, “have a lot of gall saying that to me!   First, you were a cold, disapproving bitch.  Then, you were an out of control mess.  And I loved you anyway!   For you.  For what I hoped we could be to each other.  For what we could do for the galaxy.”

 

Rey opens her mouth to respond, but she hesitates at his spitting vehemence.  Kylo is all at once terribly hurt and full of rage.  Clearly, he’s feeling cheated out of the future he planned for them, and she is to blame.

 

“We were going to be the generation who got it right!  We were going to get our happily ever after!   But you threw that away!   If you loved me, you would never have done that!”

 

“I do love you!” she retorts.

 

“I don’t believe you!   But even if it’s true, it’s too late.  You’ve been gone from my life for almost two years now.  I figured you were dead,” he gripes.

 

“I’m sorry!” Rey wails.  There’s nothing else to say.  She never meant to be gone so long.

 

Kylo relents now. The heat of his anger is spent.  He runs a hand through his messy hair and looks resigned.  His voice is calmer and full of regret when he speaks again.  “Look, I’m done, Rey.  We’re done.”

 

“But—“

 

“I wish you and the boy well.  I didn’t want this. I want the boy to know that. If things were different—“

 

“They can be different.”

 

“—if things were different, I would be his father.  But I guess he will have Vitiate to raise him and to train him.”

 

“He needs his father!” Rey chokes out. 

 

Kylo runs a hand down his long face and sighs. “He won’t grow up with a father.  I’ve seen it in the Force.” Kylo looks down as he reveals, “He’s full grown when I finally meet him.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Rey whispers, feeling stricken. 

 

“It’s true.  The Force doesn’t lie.”

 

“But the future is always in motion—“

 

Kylo looks unconvinced. “Just don’t teach him to hate me.  Nothing good will come of that.  I don’t want to have to kill my own son in twenty years.”

 

“You’d do that, wouldn’t you?” she jeers.   “You fucking asshole!  You’d kill your own son for your precious Empire!”

 

“Don’t put me in that position!” Kylo warns in a tone his officers and aides know to fear.  “Don’t make me play the Vader role in this!”

 

“Why not?  It’s what you’ve always wanted,” she sneers.

 

“I don’t want this!” Kylo hollers back.  He looks perilously close to losing control as he bellows, “I don’t want this!  You know that!”

 

“And yet, you keep refusing to change it!” Rey shrieks.  “You’re right, I’m wrong—what more do I have to say??  I’m sorry!” she cries.  “I’m sorry!”

 

Kylo’s response is snippy.  “It’s too late for that.”

 

The bond shuts off. Leaving Rey horrified and scared for the future. 

 


	46. chapter 46

“There you are, my dear.”  Snoke walks in, looks her over, and raises a stately Muun eyebrow at her.  “I could sense your anger clear across the Force.  I was half expecting to find you yellow-eyed and shooting lightning.”

 

“Don’t tempt me.  Because I might,” Rey snaps back.  She’s in a very bad mood.

 

“More trouble with my Apprentice?” Snoke inquires mildly as he seats himself and kicks back to look up at her pacing the room. 

 

“He divorced me,” she announces bitterly.   Rey feels every inch the proverbial woman scorned. 

 

“Yes, I know.   That happened a few weeks ago.  Told you, did he?” Snoke sighs.

 

“So you knew?” Rey glares at her father as she crosses her arms over her enormous swollen chest.  Everything on her body is swollen and uncomfortable these days.  Late pregnancy sucks.  Rey now lifts her chin imperiously and tosses her head.  “Were you planning to tell me?” she grills the longest reigning Sith Master of the universe. 

 

“No.”

 

“No??”  Now, Rey’s not just pissed at Kylo, she’s pissed at Snoke too.  “Why not?”

 

“I did not wish to upset you,” Snoke explains breezily, “But I see that it’s too late for that.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Rey hisses.  She resents Snoke’s paternalism.  It’s one more thing for her to feel outraged about right now. 

 

“Daughter, do not let this sham divorce trouble you,” Snoke begins talking her down.  “Those whom the Force joins together, no legalism can put asunder.”

 

Rey states it in her own words.  “He doesn’t get to divorce me!”  She resumes her fast pacing now.  “Kylo said I would never be alone if we got married.  He said our marriage was forever.  He lied!” she vents.  It’s humiliating for it to end like this.  And the worst part is that first she had begged Kylo to take her back.  Just thinking about that shameful groveling makes Rey’s cheeks flame.  What was she thinking??

 

Snoke shrugs.  “The divorce might protect you,” he muses.  “Anything that puts distance between you and him—“

 

“He disinherited the baby!” Rey interrupts to shriek the true crux of the matter. Then, she bursts into tears.   It’s more humiliation.  Damn these hormones, she thinks.  She has a hair trigger for anger and tears again.  It’s uncomfortably close to how she felt when she was unbalanced by Darkness.   Who knew pregnancy could make a woman turn to the Dark Side?  It puts a whole new cast on monthly PMS, come to think of it.

 

“Now, now,” Snoke soothes as he frowns, “You are overreacting.”

 

“Really?” She pops out her hip, raises an eyebrow, and calls Snoke on his bullshit.

 

“Yes.  Kylo Ren will never succeed in disowning the child.”

 

“He did,” she sniffs.  “He disavowed his paternity and exiled the baby too. He’s pretending his son doesn’t exist.  We’re out of sight, out of mind.” 

 

“I hardly doubt that,” Snoke dismisses her concern. “If I know my Apprentice, he is obsessing over you still.  Do calm yourself, Daughter.  A divorce decree means nothing in this context.”

 

“It does!  He’s abandoning our son!” Rey wails.  Just saying the words aloud has her choked with emotion.   For like every parent, she wants a better life for her child.  And more than anything, Rey wants to spare her son the pain of being rejected.  Of being the scorned outcast like she herself was for years. 

 

Snoke’s features soften as he tries to reassure her.  “He can try, but he will fail.   Daughter, Kylo Ren can deny that boy all he wants, but he won’t succeed.  The Force won’t let him.”

 

Rey looks up and shakes her head. “Yes, it will,” she says softly, remembering Kylo’s words.

 

Her conviction gets her father’s attention.  “What did you foresee?” Snoke now demands as he stops lounging and sits up.  “Tell me.”

 

Rey just sighs and wipes at her eyes. 

 

Snoke is insistent. He stands to his feet and crosses the distance between them.  “You have had a vision?  What did you see that has you so worried?” 

 

“I haven’t seen anything in the Force.  But Kylo has.”  Rey sniffs and hiccups a little as she reveals, “He said he w-won’t meet the baby until he’s f-full grown.”

 

Snoke clearly doesn’t like the sound of that.   His brow furrows.   “Did he say why?”

 

“No.  He just said that the Force doesn’t lie.” Rey looks to Snoke hopefully now, “But it can mislead you, right??”

 

Snoke is his sage Sith Master self as he nods and intones, “The Force does not lie but the future can change.  And we can misunderstand what the Force shows us.   It is rarely literal.”

 

Rey nods at his wisdom, her eyes still watery.  “So he could be wrong?”  He will need to be wrong in order for them to reconcile.  Because there’s no way she and Kylo could get back together without him meeting the baby.

 

“Yes, he could be wrong.”  Snoke reaches a comforting arm about her shoulders.  “You are not alone, my dear.   You will always have me.  Whether our family has Kylo Ren as well remains to be seen.”

 

Rey doesn’t like the sound of that.  She looks up worried at the underlying threat.  “You’re going to confront him again, aren’t you?”  Rey can smell an ultimatum in the works.

 

“My Apprentice needs someone to talk sense into him.  This has gone on long enough.”

 

“No, don’t.”  Rey tugs at Snoke’s sleeve.  “Please don’t,” she pleads.  “It will only make things worse.”

 

“I warned my Apprentice that my patience has limits,” Snoke growls.   “The baby is nearly born.  He’s had enough time to be angry.”

 

“Please,” Rey persists, “please let it be.”  She doesn’t want Snoke to order Kylo to take her back.   That seems so desperate and needy.  And Rey is none of those things.  After hearing the news that Kylo has divorced her and disowned their son, Rey is plain mad.  She’s in no mood for a reconciliation now.  “If he wants a divorce, he can have it,” she says with more conviction than she actually feels.  And yeah, she’s contradicting herself from just minutes earlier, but whatever.  “I don’t want to be married to him anyway,” Rey declares staunchly before succumbing to more sobs.

 

Snoke looks down at her indulgently.  “Shall I kill him for you?   Would that make you happy?”  It’s a serious offer. 

 

“No!”  Rey wipes her eyes and glares.

 

“Think about it.  Because I can kill him and take the Empire back until the boy comes of age.   We can have an extended regency period.”

 

“No!”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Then what do you want?” Snoke asks a hard follow-up question.

 

Rey wants what she can’t have.  She wants her and Kylo to be happy together and excited for the impending birth of their child.   She wants Kylo to be an enthusiastic father to their boy.   And she wants their family—including Snoke—to reconcile.  So that the cycle of intergenerational conflicts among Chosen Ones ends.  So that the Force will be balanced and Snoke will finally be released from his prison.  And then, everyone will live happily ever after and the galaxy will be at peace. 

 

Snoke must be in her head because he leans in to say softly, “Ah, Daughter, we want the same things.  But I cannot give them to you.  Not yet, at least.”  His mind switches from sentiment to strategy now.  “This divorce could protect you.”

 

Rey pulls a face and responds grumpily, “That’s what he said.”

 

“Kylo Ren has many enemies. Those concerns are not unfounded.   My dear, if only I were not in prison.  It takes a great deal of my power and concentration to project like this.  Were I not so burdened, I would surround you with Thyrsian Sun Guards who I would enslave with my mind.  But without that level of oversight, I am loathe to provide you with any visible protection.  There is too much risk that those men would be noticed or might sell you out.”

 

“I’m worried for the baby more than for myself,” Rey sighs.  “How much longer am I supposed to hide here?” she complains.  “This isn’t a good permanent solution.”

 

“How does a moisturize farm on Tatooine sound to you?” Snoke smirks.

 

“That’s not funny.”

 

“It worked for Luke Skywalker for twenty years,” her father points out, “And, it got you to smile.  But your point is well taken.  Naboo is not a permanent solution.  But I have no better alternative yet.  I worry for you both,” Snoke admits candidly.  “There have been men scouting me undercover in the Rim.  I am watched.  Once they pounce, the ruse is up.  And then, they will start looking elsewhere for you.”

 

“Not if you die convincingly as me.”  Rey slants a glance over at her sly father.  “You sure had me fooled when Kylo sliced you up.”

 

Snoke grins and laughs at the memory.  “Oh, that was fun.  Did you see the tongue?   That’s my trademark.  I always die with my tongue out.”  He demonstrates.

 

“Gross,” Rey grumbles.  “How many times have you pretended to die anyway?”

 

“Oh, lots.  I’ve been shot, blown up, stabbed, beheaded, and even hung.”  He says this rather proudly.

 

“You were hung?”  Rey blinks.

 

“Yes, it was a very ignominious end.  But I made them work for it.  I swung back and forth for a good minute gasping out curses at my executioners.  They didn’t know what to make of it,” Snoke recalls with a snort.  “My very best death was by poison.   Now that,” he crows ghoulishly, “was a performance for the ages.  Perhaps when our new prince is old enough I can tell him bedtime stories of my best exploits.  A little war, a little death, a little conquest, then a quick prayer to the Force, and it’s ‘Night-night, Master Grandpa.’”

 

Master Grandpa??  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Rey grouses.

 

“Which you won’t, of course.”  Snoke doesn’t miss a beat.  He is serious again now. “I had hoped that you and my Apprentice would have worked things out by now.   But perhaps I overestimated his ardor and underestimated his stubbornness. Or,” his eyes rake her form, “perhaps I misjudged your allure.   I myself would have been hot for a wife pregnant with a Force-strong heir.  All that power plus all that extra busom.  Just what I like in a woman.”

 

Rey recoils at this oversharing.  She shoots her father a chiding look that he ignores.  Then, she sighs, “I can’t stay here forever.” 

 

“We will find another solution,” Snoke assures her.  “But for now, you will remain here.  It has proven to be safe enough.”

 

All this talk of safety raises a horrible thought. “What if something happens to me?” Rey whispers aloud.  “What about the baby?  Who will take care of the baby?”   Would Kylo take him then?

 

Snoke inserts himself. “The boy will always have me.   I will watch over him.  And, if need be, I will raise him myself,” her father promises.  “Never fear, he will be loved.”

 

“Thank you,” she nods and gulps.   

 

Snoke looks troubled now, too.  “It will not come to that.”

 

“I hope not.”  Still, this morbid topic has her unsettled. “I don’t want my son to grow up not knowing who his family is.”  That has happened before for Skywalkers. And it happened for Rey herself.  All those years of uncertainty.  All the pain of feeling abandoned.  Rey wants very much to spare her son that experience.  “I want my boy to know who he is.  To know his place in life and in the Force.”

 

“He shall,” Snoke vows. “We will raise him to fulfill his destiny. Now, come.  Let us take a walk in the garden. You should enjoy this free time.  It won’t be long now,” he father looks meaningfully at her enormous nine-month belly. 

 

Perhaps to allay her fears, Snoke shows up a few days later with a baby gift. It’s a small rattle.  The gift is exquisitely made and quintessentially Snoke.   For at the end of the rattle’s handle is a small, gleaming cube fashioned in both red and blue.  It’s a mini holochron disguised as a baby toy.

 

Rey is completely charmed.  “Oh!  I love it!” she grins.

 

“It is the first of it’s kind.  Neither Jedi nor Sith,” Snoke points out.  “All the important Force users make holochrons to pass on their wisdom. So you will make one as well.  From mother to child.”

 

“What do I say?” Rey asks as she turns the little scepter over in her hands.  It only superficially resembles a toy.  It’s more like a prop for a little Sith prince, which she’s sure is not an accident. 

 

“Tell him everything you want him to know.  It will be one less thing for you to worry about.”

 

“Thank you.   Thank you so much,” Rey breathes out as she impulsively throws her arms around her father. 

 

He laughs at her cumbersome belly between them.  “I think I just felt a kick.  That’s good.  He’s already beginning his combat training,” Snoke jokes.

 

“What if he’s not a fighter?” Rey teases. “What if he’s a lover, not a fighter?”

 

“With you and my Apprentice as parents?  Oh, he’s definitely a fighter,” Snoke proclaims.  “Alas, we Skywalkers are seldom lucky at love,” he laments, sharing with her a sympathetic look.  “I include myself in that statement.”

 

Later that night, a contemplative Rey sits down to make a recording for the holochron.   She tells her unborn and still unnamed son what she most wants him to know.  Rey starts with the important stuff.  “My son, I am your mother and I love you.  You’re not even born yet, but I love you.  I will always love you.”  That rambling opening brings tears to Rey’s eyes, but she blinks them away.

 

“I’m recording this message because I worry for your future.  You will have enemies not of your own making.  Enemies who may want to use you or maybe even to harm you.  It is through no fault of your own. Those enemies you inherit from your father.  I don’t want to scare you.  I’m telling you this to protect you.  And because I want you to know the truth of your background.”  Rey gulps and looks away as she adds, “In case for whatever reason I am not around to tell you myself when you are old enough to understand it.” 

 

With a fortifying breath, Rey continues.  “This holochron can only be opened with the Force.  If you are watching this, then you have that special power.   It’s no surprise.  The Force is strong in your family.  I have it, your father has it, and others in your family had it too.  The Force will protect you and help you.  It may save your life.  Do not fear the Force.  It can do amazing things.”

 

And now, Rey gets to the heart of the matter.  “You are born into a very special family.  You are the son of Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the Second Galactic Empire and the Commander of the First Order.   Your father was born Obi-Wan Skywalker Organa Solo, the only child of the New Republic Senator and Resistance General Leia Organa Solo and her husband the space racer and Rebellion General Han Solo.  Your grandmother Leia Organa is the twin sister of the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.  Their father was Anakin Skywalker, the Sith Lord Darth Vader, and their mother was Padme Amidala, a Senator of the Old Republic and one-time Queen of Naboo.  Anakin Skywalker was born to a slave woman named Shmi Skywalker.  He had no natural father.  Anakin Skywalker was created in the Force by the immortal Sith Emperor Darth Vitiate.  That same Sith Emperor created me in the Force as well.  I was born to a junk dealer named Tara on Jakku.” 

 

That’s a lot of genealogy and words, but Rey sums it up now:  “You are descended from the Force itself.  That makes you different from other people.  You have a power others will not understand and may fear.  In time, I hope you learn to control it.”  Rey stares hard into the camera as she admonishes, “Your power comes with great responsibilities.  I hope you make good choices with it.”  The Force, she knows, can be both a blessing and a curse.

 

“Your father believes that I betrayed him.  He considers me a traitor.  He has divorced me and I am exiled.   You are not even born yet, but you have been disowned and banished as well.  That’s my fault. Your father and I have issues. They have nothing to do with you.  I want you to know that Kylo Ren is a good man and a committed leader.  Once he loved me and I loved him.  But he is more committed to his Empire than to his family.  I’m not like that.  For me, family will always come first.  I make no apologies for that.”  To her own ears, Rey sounds a bit righteous and indignant, but she refuses to care even as she pauses to wipe at a tear.

 

“Be careful who you trust.  If I am gone, seek help from your grandfather Darth Vitiate.  You can find him with the help of the Force. Trust him.  Learn from him. He will help you if you let him.  Darth Vitiate will know if it is safe to approach your father. Take his counsel and make prudent choices.  Kylo Ren is a dangerous man.  Right now, your father has forsaken us.  But in time perhaps he will change his mind.  I hope so.  It’s best for everyone in the galaxy if the Skywalker family gets along.”  That’s the understatement of the year, perhaps the decade.  But her son needs to hear it.

 

How does she end this?  Rey speaks from the heart.  “I’m going to do my best to be a good mother and to keep you safe.  If I am gone when you see this, know that I am watching over you in the Force.  The Force will be with you . . . always.  Remember that.”

 

Rey decides not to watch the holochron.  She knows she’ll be too tempted to edit and tweak it.  She’ll end up second guessing herself and obsessing over it.  So, she lets the recording stand as is.  Maybe it’s not the most polished presentation, but it’s sincere.  She meant every word of it.  Rey tucks the precious rattle into the crib she has set up next to her bed.  Then she crawls into bed. 

 

Five days later, her son is born.  The birth doesn’t go exactly as Rey plans, but it ends up okay anyway.  It’s less of a big life changing sentimental experience to forever remember and more of a straightforward medical procedure.  All those holonet mommy blogs sort of oversold it.  It’s not nearly as painful, scary, or dramatic as she was given to expect.  But she’s fine and the baby is fine, and that’s all that matters.   There are some things you just shouldn’t try to control too much, Rey decides.  It only sets you up for disappointment.  As it is, giving birth all alone with neither husband nor family present to share the joy isn’t exactly the ideal anyway. 

 

But when Rey holds her little boy for the very first time, she feels unexpectedly empowered.  The anxiety of the birth is behind her and now comes the good part—the baby.   Rey gazes down at the tiny sleeping human.  So soft.  So innocent.  So fragile.  So beautiful.  For Rey, it is love at first sight.  It is also the happiest she has felt in a long, long time.  It’s almost as if she can finally exhale.  The moment she has worried over and dreamed about has come.  She is a mother. 

 

“Is there someone I should call?” a worried nurse asks Rey.  “If you want, I can loan you my comlink,” she offers. 

 

“No, thank you,” Rey answers softly, feeling embarrassed.  She’s very aware that the sentient medical staff on duty feels sorry for her.  They keep checking on her and nervously hovering.

 

“Are you sure?” the nurse persists. “I don’t mind.”

 

“I’m sure,” Rey nods.  “I’m alone.”   She says the words out loud and owns them.  Rey is alone again like she was alone on Jakku.  And it’s okay.  She did just fine on Jakku, thank you.  So she says it again a little louder.  “I’m alone.”

 

The nurse corrects her with a smile, “Not anymore.”   She gestures to Rey’s sleeping newborn. 

 

Rey clearly has raised some eyebrows because before she is released a social worker comes by to sit with her.   The social worker asks a lot of questions Rey can’t answer and leaves behind a lot of information on Naboo’s government services safety net.  Thankfully, Rey won’t need to rely on that official help.  She has Snoke.   And though Rey knows that her father has his own agenda and plenty of secrets, she trusts him.  Plus, it’s hard to argue that there is a better ally in the galaxy than her indomitable prisoner Sith lord father. 

 

I can do this, Rey thinks as she strokes her son’s downy head.   These words too she says out loud in an impromptu personal pep talk.  “I can do this.  We can do this.   Even if it’s just me and you.   We are a family even without your father.”  If Kylo never meets their son before he’s full grown, then that’s his loss, Rey decides.

 

Maybe she and Kylo misunderstood their destiny.  Maybe it was less about them living happily ever after and more about them coming together to create this perfect child.   Maybe Kylo gets his Empire and she gets a family.   They just don’t get to share those dreams together.  And so, when Rey mulls over sending Kylo a message to announce their son’s birth, she decides against it.  Kylo has already washed his hands of them.  He doesn’t deserve to know.  And, yeah, after that unilateral surprise divorce Kylo didn’t bother to tell her about for weeks, it might be a little tit-for-tat.  But she’s a street smart girl from Jakku and she holds a grudge.

 


	47. Chapter 47

You’re not paranoid if they’re really out to get you.  And everyone is out to get Kylo Ren.  The press, factions within his own government, Hux, and, of course, the ultimate hater Darth Vitiate.  The fact that the ancient Sith is no longer regularly trolling him brings no relief.  If anything, it makes Kylo more paranoid. 

 

Because what is he up to?  And who is he these days?  Wary that he never realized his old Master was a projection, Kylo starts to worry that anyone around him could be Vitiate in disguise.  So Kylo begins grilling his subordinates, second guessing the advice he receives, and questioning everyone’s motives.  It adds a whole new layer of stress to his already ugly work environment.

 

For the first time ever, Kylo wishes Luke Skywalker were still around.  Because as annoying as his uncle had been, Kylo could use some advice.  Kylo strongly suspects now that his Jedi Master uncle had known the whole truth of Snoke but never let on. 

 

Like the rest of the galaxy, Luke Skywalker knew about the neo-Imperial military fringe group, the First Order, and its messianic Supreme Leader Snoke.  Luke told Kylo and the rest of his Jedi students about the inevitable confrontation to come.  The Dark Side is rising, Luke had declared solemnly.  Afterwards, the Jedi Master had taken his nephew aside and warned him that Snoke would be particularly interested in him.  Why?   Luke said it was because of his relationship to his prominent New Republic Senator mother and to his uncle the current Jedi Grand Master.  It’s because of your family, Luke had explained.  Trusting young Ben Solo took that answer at face value and never looked deeper.

 

It was years later when he would learn another big clue to the puzzle.  One random afternoon breaking news flashed across the holonet.  It was juicy political news.  An opponent of Senator Leia Organa had charged that she was the secret daughter of Darth Vader.  She has no blood relation to the Alderaan royal family at all, her detractors complained.  She’s a fraud.  The news was shocking.  Even more so when it was confirmed to be true without further comment.

 

Young Ben immediately sought out his uncle, interrupting him at meditation.  “Is Darth Vader your father?” he demanded.  Luke had been caught off guard and tried to put him off.  But young Ben Solo was persistent.  “Master Luke, I must know.”  His uncle sighed and looked away.  “Yes, he is my father.  Your grandfather, Ben.”

 

That news changed everything.  But it took time for the real significance to sink in. 

 

In the meantime, his uncomfortable uncle gave excuses. “I wanted to tell you when you were old enough, but your mother wouldn’t allow it.  She worried you would follow old Snoke on some evil crusade of Darkness.  That you would be seduced to the Dark Side like Anakin Skywalker was.”

 

“Is there anything else I need to know?” confused Ben asked.

 

Luke Skywalker lied and said not yet.  But, in time, he would confess it all.  His uncle revealed Anakin Skywalker’s mysterious fatherless past and the Old Republic Jedi Council’s belief that the slave boy from Tatooine was the prophesied Chosen One.  The one who would destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force.  Uncle Luke, of course, believed the prophesy to be fulfilled on the second Death Star.  For that’s how badly Master Skywalker misunderstood balance. 

 

Luke taught that balance meant that the Light had won.  Evil still existed, of course.  For Darkness is a natural urge in all of us that must be suppressed.  Jedi discipline and self-control were the keys to keeping yourself on the right track.  And a slow-moving, democratic government full of checks and balances would keep the galaxy safely in the Light.  This view was based solely on his uncle’s experience with his father.  Luke was convinced that when offered the chance to choose Light over Darkness, when called to be better and to act nobler, people would rise to the occasion.  Everyone instinctively wants to be good, Luke contended.  Give them freedom and the opportunity to make the right choice, and they will.  Years later, Rey would try the same naïve tactic on the _Supremacy_.  It was foolish self-delusion writ large.   Luke Skywalker would learn his error the hard way, as would his doomed students and his fleeting New Republic.   For not everything is a simple choice of Dark or Light, evil or good.  Life is far more complicated than those dichotomies suggest.

 

But to acknowledge Lord Vader’s failure to achieve balance would have meant that Luke Skywalker would have to admit to Darkness in himself and others.   He would have to tolerate it.  Maybe even teach it.  And that was unthinkable.  Luke Skywalker would rather murder his nephew in his sleep than let him mature conflicted between Dark and Light.  Luke’s version of the Force was Light.  Pure Light.  Anything else was unacceptable and a threat that must be destroyed. 

 

It was that attitude which led a shaken young Ben Solo to seek out the forbidden Dark Master he had been warned about.  He showed up to Snoke a disillusioned Padawan looking for answers to questions his uncle refused to entertain.  How pleased Snoke must have been to learn that Luke Skywalker had driven Kylo to him.  For this Jedi student came willingly to Darkness, thoroughly disgusted with the Light. 

 

Looking back, Kylo sees that all along, Snoke has played him.  From their first in-person meeting when Snoke had praised his grandfather and the promise of his bloodline, Kylo should have been suspicious.  What was so great about the Force-strong Skywalkers, born conflicted and veering to extremes?   As likely to turn on their Jedi Master or Sith Master as they were to obey them?   It is precisely that variability:  the Skywalkers are capable of anything and everything.  They are the ultimate free agent change agents.  And Kylo strongly suspects that sly Darth Vitiate relishes that fact. 

 

But it didn’t end there.  His Master’s war was well underway when Kylo’s path crossed with a dirty scavenger girl who tried to kill him.  She was uneducated and untrained.  Fierce and valiant.   And she looked into his mind and saw his deepest fear without breaking a sweat.  Kylo had been offended and impressed. He ran to tell his Master. 

 

“If what you say about this girl is true, bring her to me,” he remembers Snoke ordering.  How Snoke must have been salivating at the chance to meet his latest Force progeny.  It puts a whole new gloss on Snoke berating him for losing to Rey on Starkiller Base.  In all likelihood, Snoke had been pleased with the news that his long-lost daughter had surfaced to kick his current Apprentice’s ass.  Because even untrained, Rey was that powerful. And now, Snoke had a daughter and a great-grandson fighting on opposite sides of the war, meaning Snoke had a Chosen One ally win or lose.  He had hedged his bets masterfully.

 

Naturally, his Master had opened the Force bond.   Because the only thing that could top his strategy of playing both sides would be for Kylo and Rey to be allied together.  It worked, of course.  The lonely scavenger looking for guidance fell for the lonely Apprentice looking for glory.  And then Rey unexpectedly turned Dark, sending Kylo off to explore the Light and making Rey even more receptive to her father’s teachings.  Snoke had seen Rey’s past.  He knew how much she longed for a family. How much she wanted to be someone better than a castoff.  Snoke had the answers Rey needed, the teaching she wanted, and the heritage she craved. His lure was perfect.  And all the while, clueless Kylo had been rekindling his abilities in the Light hoping to help Rey even as he was drawing closer to balancing the Force.   Closer to Snoke’s ultimate goal.

 

But all those machinations weren’t enough to get Snoke out of prison.  For that, he still needs Kylo.  It’s what’s keeping him alive, Kylo knows.  But it also makes him the last line of defense for the galaxy against Darth Vitiate.  At least until Rey or his unborn son masters the Force in full.  And then, Kylo knows, he instantly becomes expendable. 

 

So what’s Snoke’s plan?  The guy has a plan, he always does.  There is some plot afoot to lure Kylo to want to free his old Master.  But for the life of him, Kylo can’t figure it out.  All he can reason is that  Snoke will depose him and then offer him his Empire back . . . for a price.  And if that’s the strategy, then Snoke had better be prepared.  Because Kylo’s power is surging and he’s not going down without a fight.  For unlike Snoke who builds and topples governments at whim to achieve his aims, Kylo is in it for something greater than himself.  Like his grandfather, his mother, and his uncle before him, Kylo wants to make things better.  He’s doing it his own way and trying his best even though it feels like the whole galaxy is against him.  He is determined to implement his full agenda in hopes some of it will stick even if he is forced to relinquish his Empire to Vitiate. 

 

Some days, it feels like a race against the clock.  But Kylo is undeterred.  Lately, he has decided to make the Senate less of a perfunctory body used to rubber stamp his agenda with a faux veneer of democracy.  And so in a move that ruffles the feathers of some First Order hardliners, Kylo announces a plan to give his legislature a few true areas of authority.  It’s a bit of an experiment to see how Hux and his Senators handle actual decision making.   If they fuck it up, Kylo fully intends to revoke his orders.  He’ll be damned if he lets his Empire degenerate into the corrupt, ‘do nothing’ Old Republic Senate.

 

But in a surprise move, his Chancellor who will wield all the new power is unenthusiastic. The timing for this is all wrong, Hux gripes.  You’re misjudging the mood of the people.  This is very unpopular among the First Order.   Maybe so, but he’s doing it anyway.  And that means a series of meetings on the topic.

 

Today’s discussion makes sufficient headway and Kylo declares it adjourned.  He’s on his feet ready to move on when Hux waylays him.  "Give us a moment alone,” Hux tells their crowd of loitering assistants.  They both rarely appear anywhere these days without an entourage.

 

Kylo nods his permission. The men and women vacate the room.  Then Kylo turns expectantly to his Chancellor.  “What is it?” Kylo is impatient to move on to the next meeting.   His days are highly scheduled and jam-packed.

 

“Did Rey have the baby?" Hux asks without preamble. 

 

It’s an uncomfortable, unexpected question on a sensitive topic.  Kylo looks away and stalls a long moment.   "I don't know," he admits.

 

"Ren—“

 

"You can have her,” Kylo interrupts.  He is dismissive and flippant.  Long ago, he learned to lash out to cover his hurt.   And the last person he wants to appear hurt before is Hux.  “I don’t want her.   She’s a traitor,” Kylo gripes bitterly.  

 

“Ren—“

 

“She's single now.”  Kylo gives his Chancellor a cold appraisal as he desperately tries to change the subject.  “Maybe Snoke will reward you with Rey once you help him to depose me."

 

Hux bristles at the overt accusation.  "I'm not plotting with him to depose you."   It’s an automatic denial.

 

The words ring true in the Force, but Kylo is still suspicious.  He's always suspicious these days.  "You are plotting with him.  Do not deny it!" he hisses.

 

It’s a true confrontation now, like in their old days on the _Finalizer_.  Hux steps closer to warn, “Snoke and I are not who you need to worry about."

 

"Spare me the tattletales about Jerard."

 

Hux lifts his chin and stands even stiffer and straighter than usual.  The Chancellor starts speaking truth to power in his most formal nasal tones as he gets up in Kylo’s face.  "Supreme Leader, you have become erratic and paranoid—“

 

"With good reason, you tell me."

 

"—and it is impairing your judgement and undermining your authority.  Even your strongest supporters question your fitness."

 

"I am aware,” Kylo snarls. 

 

"Are you?  Then get it together, Ren, and deal with Jerard and his junta band properly.   Before it's too late."  Hux shifts his weight uncomfortably as he hisses, "I'm taking an awful risk telling you this.  Don’t make me regret it.”

 

Kylo fights to urge to roll his eyes.  The real risk here is his old Master.  Not the overly rigid commander of his Mid Rim fleet. 

 

“We both want the same thing,” Hux argues.  “For the galaxy to be well run and for the Empire to be firmly established.  Jerard and his conspirators threaten that--”

 

"The Empire is fine,” Kylo shuts Hux down in quelling tones. 

 

It's true.  The galactic economy is humming along nicely, his trade reforms are showing real benefits that trickle down to even the average person, and his new weapons programs and military buildup are on schedule.  Kylo’s poll numbers are even way up in the Core worlds where his new civil liberty guarantees are popular. 

 

But Hux apparently disagrees, even if he takes a physical step back to deescalate things.  "It may be fine for now, but not for long.  Ren, if the Order splits in two, it will be civil war again." His Chancellor’s eyes narrow and his face hardens as he complains, "We have had enough disorder!  We were supposed to be past all that by now.”

 

"The Empire is fine," Kylo grinds out.  It him who's falling apart. 

 

Conversations like that just fuel Kylo’s pervasive sense of unease. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the meantime, he keeps up his breakneck pace of work and training.  Exhausted though he is, the schedule has one advantage:  the busier he is, the less time he has to fret about Rey and the baby. 

 

Several weeks later it's a long day, like every day, when Kylo dismisses his staff, climbs down his throne, and stalks into his adjacent office for a few more hours of work.  Unfortunately, he finds another person lurking and this one won’t be so easily dismissed.  It’s Darth Vitiate, the deus ex machina from the Unknown Regions, the puppeteer of armies, and the mastermind of several long defunct Empires.  Kylo swallows hard and does his best not to appear intimidated. 

 

Clad in his armor and cape with those two blood red sword hilts, Vitiate still manages to look weirdly like the evil version of Luke Skywalker.  The resemblance is disconcerting.  And depressing.   Kylo doesn’t like to be reminded that he’s related to this guy.  But then again, all his foes seem to be his relatives.  This is nothing new.

 

Kylo reaches to yank off his helmet and plunks it down hard—maybe a little too hard—on his desk.  Then he regards his nemesis steadily.  Who talks first?  Does he talk first?  Kylo knows his old Master well enough to know he will talk last.  Snoke always had to have the last word.

 

“Congratulations, Apprentice.  Unto you a child has been born.”  Snoke’s sly grin is obnoxious as he intones, “Long live the Skywalkers.”

 

Kylo gulps.  He says nothing.

 

His foe, however, is gleeful to share the news.  “Oh, the happiest days are when babies are born,” Vitiate gushes, every inch the proud grandfather.  It’s bizarre.  And creepy.  “A new life.  A new hope.”  The ultimate Sith looks irritatingly smug as he closely watches his Apprentice for a reaction.

 

Kylo keeps his poker face.  But he knows his mixed emotions are betraying him in the Force. 

 

When Kylo does not respond, Darth Vitiate continues.  “Such promise this new prince brings us.   He’s John Doe Smith officially on Naboo’s birth records.  An ordinary boy born to an ordinary young woman. Father unknown, naturally.  But he is secretly Carl Skywalker Solo, my next worthy Apprentice, the next son of Darkness, and the heir apparent to the mighty Kylo Ren.”

 

Carl?  She named him Carl??  Kylo doesn’t know what to make of that.

 

Vitiate must see his dismay, for he explains, “Rey soured on the name Anakin.”  The imprisoned Sith shrugs.  “Rey said that the galaxy had enough Darth Vaders.  I disagreed, of course, but I indulged her whim.  In those uncomfortable late stages of pregnancy, women must be indulged a bit.”

 

Carl???  Who the fuck is Carl? 

 

Kylo is lost until Vitiate explains, “And so, the boy is my namesake now.  Named for grandpa.  Yours truly, Carl Tenebrae, Dark Lord Vitiate.  As well as hundreds of other aliases.”

 

Oh, yeah.  There’s that Carl.   Kylo frowns.   “I guess she finally made her allegiance officially known,” he drawls, his words dripping with sarcasm.  Kylo shoots his unwanted visitor a glare.

 

Vitiate ignores it.  “Your wife is doing well, by the way.”  Kylo hears the emphasis on ‘wife’ loud and clear.  His old Master now gives him a reproachful squint.  It’s the expression that used to presage Force lightning back in the old days, so Kylo readies himself.  But none is forthcoming . . . yet.  Vitiate must have decided to persuade rather than punish today.

 

“The baby is thriving, in case you are wondering.  He’s a big one.  Nine pounds and twenty-one inches.   With a full head of brown hair and Rey’s nose and ears thankfully.”

 

When Kylo does not reply, Vitiate starts musing.  “I myself was the biological father to three sons.  The first I gave away to be raised in obscurity.  I was heartbroken at the time and resentful of the baby.  I wanted nothing to do with him after I killed his mother.”  The Sith tells his tale like it’s an amusing party anecdote, and not some family tragedy.  But such is the cheerfully amoral nature of Darth Vitiate.  Kylo knows that power has value to him, not people. 

 

“It was an experiment to see if talent could rise to the top in hierarchical Sith society.  And in time, my son did.    That boy was raised by a workaday single father to a life as full of chores as it was love.  Here I had thought I threw him away, but it turned out to be a winning formula for childrearing.  My son was the first and only supposed zookeeper’s son to make it to the rank of Sith Lord.  He was the consummate outsider who was covertly the Emperor’s son.  A man who was as secretly admired as he was openly ridiculed.  Yes,” Vitiate nods his approval as he reminisces, “that one was a credit to me.  His military mind and his Force were all me.  But his stubborn heart was all his mother.  He too hated me in the end,” Vitiate adds thoughtfully.   And here comes the real punchline as he summarizes, “That son did his best, but he was never any real threat.”   It’s a classic Sith diss.  Among the competitive men of the Dark Side, the pecking order is everything.

 

“What happened to him?” Kylo feels compelled to ask.

 

“I had him encased in carbonite.”  And if he’s sorry about that demise, Vitiate sure doesn’t show it.

 

He must be in a nostalgic mood because he keeps sharing his experiences with fatherhood.  “My other two sons were twins.  Twins ran in the family long before your mother and uncle showed up.  This time around I raised them the opposite of my firstborn.  Those boys were reared with all the trappings and privileges they were born to, but with little attention.”  Vitiate sighs as he admits, “That was a mistake.  I thought it would motivate them to earn my respect.  Instead, it allowed their psycho mother to have too much influence over them.  She was . . . regrettable.”  The one-time Eternal Emperor of Zakuul now looks a bit sheepish as he shrugs.  “What can I say?  It was decades after my true love’s death but I was still on the rebound.  Senya was available and willing but . . . well, she was an inferior choice.  Way too high maintenance,” he tells Kylo man-to-man.  “Stay away from those ones,” he counsels, “They’re the worst.”  Vitiate wears a pained expression.  “I definitely killed the wrong wife, that’s for certain.”

 

All this oversharing is bizarre as far as Kylo is concerned.  But he endures it.  What else can he do?  For his part, old Vitiate looks to be enjoying himself.  Like this is some sort of bonding moment.

 

“The twins were loyal boys and fierce warriors.   I pitted them against one another, naturally.  Competition is a healthy thing,” Vitiate explains.  “Ultimately, Arcann slew Thexan.  That impressed me.  It is a Dark Side rite of passage to kill your kin, as you know, Apprentice.  Once Arcann killed his brother, I rewarded him by letting him think he killed me.  That one completed his training most satisfactorily,” Vitiate recalls.  He smiles over at Kylo now.  “Just like you did.”  And here comes the same punchline again:  “That boy was loyal and strong, but his abilities were limited.  Arcann was never even a minor threat.”

 

If all this father-son history is supposed to needle him, it’s not working.  Not really.  Kylo tells his foe, “If you’re finished, you can leave,” to hasten things up.

 

But apparently, old Vitiate is just warming up.  “There were no more biological children after that.  But when young Anakin was conjured in the Force, I thought I would give him the upbringing my first son had.  Anakin was born a slave and I thought that would teach him hard work and grit.  I just didn’t plan on a passing Jedi Master showing up to buy him and steal him for their cult.  After that, I tasked my then Apprentice with keeping an eye on him, which he did.  I worried that Anakin was raised too long a Jedi and would never turn Dark.  But, of course, he succeeded.  And spectacularly so.  Young Darth Vader marched on the main Jedi temple with an army at his back.” Darth Vitiate grins at the memory.  “It was his turn to kill his kin, only he slew a temple full of Jedi colleagues instead.”  Vitiate chuckles.  “So much for ‘no attachments,’ eh?”

 

Kylo makes no comment.  He just stares impatiently at his tormentor.  He’s got work to do.

 

His old Master is undeterred.  He looks proudly over at Kylo now.  “You killed a few Jedi at a temple yourself, I recall.  All my best sons did that feat.  My firstborn’s sacking of the Coruscant Jedi temple is legendary still to this day.  Now there was a gruff, badass Sith,” Vitiate reminisces, “a real chip off the old block.”

 

Vitiate returns to his version of Darth Vader now.  “Alas, things started going awry immediately for poor Anakin.  Once he was injured, his Force powers dimmed.  He was more machine than man in some respects, and it impeded his connection to the Force significantly.  But the larger problem was my then Apprentice.  Sidious never taught Anakin much.  He was too afraid of him.  For he knew my son’s potential.  Lord Vader ended up a half-trained Jedi and barely trained Sith.  The rest he taught himself, like I did.  Anakin could easily have balanced the Force, had he tried to.  But he spent his energies elsewhere.”

 

“Resurrection,” Kylo guesses, recalling all the detailed notes on Force experiments he found at the Mustafar castle.

 

“Yes.  It was a waste of time.  I could easily have taught him that secret myself.  There was no need to rediscover it.   But Vader was obsessed and unhappy.  It kept him from reaching his potential.  The galaxy suffered for it.”

 

Yes, and Vitiate remained in prison, Kylo thinks to himself.

 

His old Master looks bitter now as his ramblings come to the next generation.  “When your uncle finally surfaced, I thought for certain things would come to fruition.  The Dark Side father and the Light Side son.  Jedi and Sith born to rule the galaxy together.   If anyone could balance the Force, Anakin and Luke Skywalker could do it, no?”  Vitiate scowls at the memory.  “I intervened, of course.  I wasn’t going to let this next chance slip away.  I plotted with Anakin to lure Luke.  Together we would kill Sidious and my boys would rule.  But your grandfather bungled it.  Badly.”

 

Er . . . what?  This is a version of the family history Kylo has never head.  His ears perk up.

 

“Oh, I was irate!” Vitiate fumes hotly.  He’s still mad decades later.  “You lure someone to the Dark Side with promises of power and knowledge.  Maybe with riches and prestige.  Or with some forbidden fruit.  But not by lopping the kid’s hand off before you ask him to join you.  What sort of persuasion is that?” his old Master gripes.  “I had to approach your uncle myself after Bespin,” he reveals more history Kylo never knew.  “We were on our way to subverting Sidious but things went awry again.  I told Vader not to let Sidious get him and his son in the same room with him.  But he did.  And Luke Skywalker by that time had figured out how lonely his father was.  Like our Rey did to you, young Luke had the ability to look into his father and see his worst fear.  Luke Skywalker saw immediately that Darth Vader worried he would forever be alone.  And so, Vader was moved to kill his Master for his son.  It would have worked out fine had Vader not killed himself in the process,” Vitiate complains.  “And then who was left to balance the Force?” he grouses.   Because it’s all about him, naturally.  Nevermind the years of brutal war that beset the galaxy when the original Empire slowly disintegrated. 

 

“And that brings me to you, Apprentice.”  Vitiate looks him up and down a moment.  “Yes, I had my eye on you from the very beginning.  I was determined that you would be everything and more that Anakin had been.  And you are,” Vitiate judges.  He lays on the flattery now.  “You have turned out well.  I am proud of you, my boy.”

 

Kylo seethes at that condescension.

 

“This is the best part of life,” his great-grandfather counsels.  “You are a man grown, your training is complete, and now your true maturation begins.  This is when a man comes into his own.  Destiny is yours for the taking.”

 

Kylo has a pretty good idea of what Vitiate means by destiny. So, he announces flatly, “I’m never letting you out.”

 

Rather than argue, his foe treats this as a teachable moment.  “If there is one truth I have learned in thousands of years of living, it is to never say never.  You will be surprised what situations you find yourself in.  Predicaments you can and cannot foresee.  Life has many challenges.  Even I cannot control things as much as I wish.”

 

That’s obvious, Kylo thinks.  He’s in Force jail. Where he can rot, for all Kylo cares. 

 

His old Master returns to his recitation of family lore now.  “Your mother and uncle made it so easy for me with their half-truths and their determination to make you the poster child for the new Jedi Order.  You didn’t know it then, but you were desperate for someone to let you make your own choices.  And you were hungry for the attention of a father.”  The ancient Sith Emperor shakes his head as he disses Han Solo.  “Your mother should never have married that criminal.”

 

On that, at least, they can agree.  But the fact still remains, “I’m never letting you out.”

 

“Are thousands of years not long enough to atone for my sins?” Vitiate posits.

 

“Not when you’ve learned nothing from them,” Kylo retorts. 

 

Those words prompt his old Master to chuckle.  “That was very Jedi of you, my boy.”  Vitiate cocks his head at him now and inquires, “How is your study of the Light progressing?  Rey says you are quite adept at healing.”   Vitiate clearly approves. “That is a very useful skill.”

 

And this is when Kylo decides to lay it all out.  “There is no Light.  There is no Dark.  There is only the Force.”  That statement would be heresy to a Jedi and blasphemy to a true Sith, but Kylo is done with unnecessary concepts.  How you connect to the Force doesn’t matter.  Emotions are not to be suppressed, nor should calm reason be abandoned.  Intent is shaky ground too.  For Kylo himself has used both the Light Side and the Dark Side with good intentions.  So, to Hell with all categories.  He’s ready to let the false constructs of the past die along with the outdated religions that enforced them.  

 

“I once knew a man who thought like you do,” Vitiate purrs.  “Yes, you are coming along nicely.  I knew you would not disappoint.”   

 

“I’m never letting you out,” Kylo digs in.

 

“Oh, you will, my good and faithful Apprentice.  I have foreseen our glorious future together.”

 

“Not a chance,” Kylo smirks with nasty glee.   Since he knows Vitiate won’t kill him, he doesn’t bother pulling his punches.  “You got what you deserved!”

 

“Oh, you are getting rather Jedi,” his old Master chuckles, “if you worry about things like justice.”  And now, the smug Dark sorcerer attempts to tamp down the situation.  “Let us cease arguing in circles.  I am here on behalf of my daughter and my grandson who are in need of your love and care.”

 

“I divorced that woman.”

 

“Yes, that was very ill-advised,” Vitiate chides him.  “You’re in the doghouse now, Apprentice.  So, take it from me.  Once all your bridges are burnt, it is time for the grand gesture.  Get yourself to Naboo fast and do not dare tell her I sent you.”

 

Kylo does not respond.  He just eyes his old Master resentfully.  He doesn’t take orders from him any longer.  They are equals as enemies. 

 

His foe doesn’t see it that way, of course.  “Grovel!” Vitiate commands.  “Grovel like you used to do before me and perhaps she will take you back.   Beneath all that Jakku bluster and fierce independence, your wife is the forgiving sort.  I, however, am not,” his old Master threatens.

 

Whatever.  This time Kylo does indeed roll his eyes.

 

“Fathers are important,” Vitiate keeps up his lecturing.  “You know that better than most men.  So, stop repeating your family’s patterns.”  With this parting shot, he disappears in a huff.

 

And thank the Force for that.  Kylo exhales and slumps.  There is nothing like that guy to put him on edge.  And nothing gets him more stressed out than thinking about Rey.  She is the great love and the great loss of his life.  All that pain is magnified now that there is a child involved.

 

So . . . he’s a father.  He knew this day would come.  He’d be lying if he said that he had been looking forward to this news with anticipation.  It’s more like dread.  Seeing Rey a month ago looking ready to pop had finally made the baby seem real.  And that had raised a lot of uncomfortable trepidation and guilt.   Vitiate knows it, too.

 

It’s strange to be the parent yourself and not the child, Kylo thinks.  His family had exerted such a defining influence over his life for so long that even though they are gone that self-identity still lingers.   In Kylo’s mind, he’s still his mother’s embarrassing prodigal son, his uncle’s lost Padawan, and his loser father’s screwup kid.  Well, not anymore.  Now, he’s the absent father to a kid named Carl.   Ugh.  Carl has to be the worst name choice ever.  Next to Han and Luke, of course.

 

Kylo decides that the day is done.  He wanders back to his private quarters and turns down Mrs. Faris’ offer of dinner.  Instead, he pours himself a stiff drink and heads for the terrace to brood.  

 

He didn’t want things to turn out this way, but he feels powerless to salvage their relationship.  And from the tone of Vitiate’s lecture, it seems like Rey feels the same way.  That last conversation between them had been a goodbye for him.  Kylo isn’t going to Naboo now or ever to grovel.  He’s moving on.   This time, he means it.

 

His comlink buzzes.  It’s Chancellor Hux.  Kylo ignores it.  Whatever that guy wants can wait until tomorrow.  He returns to his moping.  A few minutes later, his comlink buzzes again.  It’s the urgent setting this time.  Hux is pissed he’s being annoyed.  And that makes Kylo smile.  He throws back the rest of his drink, smashes the glass against the pavement, and stalks off to his bedroom.  He’ll skip the training tonight.  He’s tired and he needs a good nights’ sleep.  On the way back inside, his comlink buzzes one more time from Hux, so Kylo shuts it off. 

 


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read at your own risk. This story is rated mature for a reason, and anyone who has ever read another blueenvelopes story knows that I write for adults. These next two chapters may upset or disappoint you, but the story will continue.

Rey’s initial days at home alone with the baby are hard, but they are also amazing. There’s a nanny droid to help, but Rey rarely lets it do anything hands on with Carl.   She wants to do everything for her son herself.  Snoke arrives almost immediately to welcome the newest Skywalker to the family.  He drops his Muun disguise around the baby, appearing like the kingly human figure Rey recalls from Mortis.  I want him to know me as I am, Snoke explains.  It will confuse him to see Master Grandpa in my other projected versions. 

 

If the baby has Force abilities, there is no evidence of it.  That troubles Rey a bit, but Snoke is not alarmed.  He will have an awakening in time like you did, her father assures her.  When the time is right, Force sensitivity will manifest itself.  Trust me, you don’t want a Force savant two-year-old, Snoke jokes, because that could cause all sorts of trouble.  As it is, the tiny little boy has an enormous imprint in the Force.  It’s impossible not to notice.  But in all other respects, he is a newborn baby like any other. Little Carl goes through almost as many changes of clothes daily as he does diapers.  Mostly he eats and sleeps, waking every two or three hours with his mewing cry that announces he’s ready for the cycle to begin anew.   After the first few weeks, Rey gets the hang of it and they both muddle through. 

 

Tonight is like any other night.  Rey sits up, dozing with Carl swaddled in her lap.  During these quiet wee hours of the night, time is vague and her mind is hazy.  She just finished feeding Carl and he promptly fell asleep snuggled in her arms.  It’s the most relaxing, most peaceful feeling ever.  Despite all the conflict that surrounds them, despite their uncertain future, Rey feels utterly content.

 

Her son looks like a little angel, Rey thinks as she gazes down.  He is perfect in every way.    For all her and Kylo’s shortcomings, they created something amazing in this new life.  Carl is adorable with his thick thatch of baby fine dark hair and his rosebud mouth.  He has cute little feet in soft booties and tiny hands that belie a surprisingly strong grasp.  He has his little holochron scepter tucked into his swaddle as usual.  Carl seems comforted by the soft glow of the toy, so Rey keeps it close by. 

 

For Rey, this baby feels like a blank slate and a fresh start.  Like an opportunity to erase the mistakes of the past.  Rey is committed to giving her son the love, attention, and stability she never had.  And though Kylo may have abandoned them, little Carl will have a father figure and protector in Snoke.  It’s not the ideal setup, but it’s doable.  And maybe there is a lesson there, too.  Rey will model resiliency.   She will demonstrate what it means to cope.  Because life has all sorts of challenges and disappointments, but you must endure nonetheless.  Resilience begins with facing hard truths head on, Rey knows from experience.  And that’s why she vows never to take refuge in convenient lies or protective half-truths.   Carl will know the reality of his family, all the good parts and all the regrettable parts, too.

 

Rey has big dreams for her son.  They aren’t the usual Skywalker ambitions.  Rey could care less whether her boy ever rules an Empire or saves a Republic.  Her goals are far more mundane but probably more elusive.  She wants Carl to be happy.  And even though he is born to a fearsome legacy, she wants her son to be as normal and as humble as possible.   Snoke will ensure that Carl can walk with kings, but Rey will make certain that he does not lose the common touch.  The inherent arrogance of the Skywalker clan—the conviction that the Chosen Ones know best what the galaxy at large needs—ends with this generation. 

 

She should probably lay Carl down in his crib to sleep.  All the holonet advice she has read warns not to let a baby get too used to being held.   But Rey spent so many years alone that she resolves to spoil her boy with love.  By day, she mostly wears him in a sling, taking him on long, aimless walks around the villa’s grounds.  And after the first nighttime feeding, Rey lets him doze in her arms as she herself naps upright in a chair.   Days melt into nights like this, and nights creep into days.  Rey spends far too much time in her nightgown and robe.  Those clothes are milk stained and covered in dried baby spit up, but she doesn’t care.  There’s no one around to impress.  And her most important task currently is bonding with Carl.  It’s not about her right now, it’s about him.  

 

Rey feels responsible lately in a way she has never before felt.  Not when she was the Resistance emissary to Luke Skywalker.  Not when she was a lone voice of conscience in Kylo’s Senate.  Those things were important, but not as purposeful as motherhood. This responsibility is deeper and it is forever.  Yes, there are lots of messes to clean and chores to be done, and she’s very, very tired.   But the real work of motherhood is taking care of someone, even when at times that means delaying your own needs. 

 

Rey yawns and wipes at her eyes.  She shifts the baby slightly in her lap.  Carl doesn’t stir.  He sleeps like a rock and Rey takes pride in that fact.  In her mind, it means he feels safe.  Not like she did sleeping very lightly in her desert AT-AT, always alert for danger.  Years later, it is a habit she can’t seem to shake.

 

Rey wipes her eyes again and blinks.  And that’s when she sees a quick flash of light through the window.  It’s unexpected, so it gets her attention.  Did she imagine that?  Rey squints through the window sheers into the darkness.  Yet another flash of light shines and now Rey’s sharp ears detect a speeder approaching.  And that’s odd.  She never receives visitors other than Snoke who comes via Force, and deliveries to the villa only arrive on Tuesdays.  Never on Wednesday mornings at 4:45am. 

 

Suddenly, she is very alert.

 

Suspicious Rey gathers her baby to her chest as she heads to the window to investigate. Yes, there is a lone speeder heading up the drive path fast.  It’s too dark for Rey to see any occupants.   But something about this situation feels familiar.  She just can’t place why.  But she definitely has a bad feeling about it.

 

Rey hurries to stuff her feet into shoes.  Then she grabs for her lightsaber.  As she creeps out of the nursery into the hallway, she hears someone pounding on the front door yelling her name. 

 

“Rey!   Rey!”  It’s a man’s voice.  Insistent and loud.  “Rey!  Wake up!”

 

She’s not yet to the foyer when she hears the sound of breaking glass.  Whoever has come for her is wasting no time.  Not knowing whether she will find a friend or a foe, Rey lights her sword and prepares to do battle. 

 

As she exits the hallway into the villa’s gracious entryway, a tall dark shape is finishing kicking out the ornate window adjacent to the front door.  The man steps sideways through the narrow opening, his boot crunching on broken glass, when Rey surprises him.  She blinks on the lights with the help of the Force and brandishes her sword under his chin, ready to swing up. 

 

And wait—she knows this guy.  “Army!” she gasps.

 

Army Hux looks incredibly relieved to see her. “It’s not too late,” he exhales.  “You’re safe.”

 

Rey immediately disengages.  “What are you doing—“

 

“Is that the kid?”

 

“Yes. Army, I nearly—”

 

“You didn’t,” he cuts her off.   In one glance, his eyes sweep her from head to toe.  “Good, you’re dressed.”  Not really.  She’s wearing a nightgown, robe, and slippers, but Army determines her dishabille sufficient.  “Come on.”  He motions for the door.  “Get in the speeder.”

 

Rey stands her ground.  “What’s going on?” she demands as she searches his tense features.

 

Army is agitated, turning to peek out the broken window nervously as he answers.  “I’m pretty sure I was followed.  That’s fine if it’s Ren’s guys who usually tail me, but if not, we’re in trouble.”

 

“What’s going on?”  Rey is still unclear about the situation.

 

“Get in the speeder.  I’ll tell you on the way.”  Army’s handsome face looks strained and his words are rushed.  “Trust me.  We need to get you and the kid out of here.  There’s no time to waste.”

 

Rey nods slowly.  With her senses on alert, she can feel the growing danger in the Force.  Recalling Snoke’s words to heed her instincts, she opens the front door and they both rush through it.  Rey hops into the passenger seat of the idling speeder that Army has parked in the front driveway.  His foot hits the accelerator the moment they are both in.  The vehicle takes off fast, thrusting them back hard in their seats.  

 

“Buckle up.  This could be rough.”  It’s good advice Rey takes, clutching the baby to her chest protectively.  Her adrenaline is racing now as her survival instinct kicks in.  And it’s no longer just for her, it’s for her infant son too.

 

Army has killed the lights on the speeder, making the piloting treacherous.  He’s relying on the scanner to see what’s ahead in the predawn darkness.  Luckily, Naboo’s moon is full tonight and that provides some limited visibility.

 

With his eyes never leaving the controls, Hux starts talking fast.  His words are terse as he sticks to the bare facts.  “Jerard is making his move against Ren.  I got tipped off so I could make a run for it.”

 

“Tonight?”

 

“Yes.  For sure, you and the kid are on their kill list.  That’s why I’m here.  Look behind us.  See if you see anyone.”

 

Rey twists in her seat and starts peering into the darkness.  And what is she doing?  Your eyes can deceive you.  Don’t trust them.  Instead, she trusts the Force, reaching out to assess the situation.

 

Hux keeps talking.  “I tried to warn Ren.  I didn’t get through.”

 

That news distracts her.  “Warn him now!” Rey demands automatically.   “Try again!  Where’s your comlink?”

 

“It’s too late.  All First Order comlinks went down an hour ago.  It’s supposedly some sort of overnight software upgrade, but that’s just the cover.  Jerard is smart.  He has the chain of command disrupted just when it matters most.”

 

“Oh, no,” Rey groans as her heart sinks.  She might be mad as Hell at Kylo, but that doesn’t mean she wants him dead.

 

Army doesn’t mince words.  “Ren will wake up to an ambush.  Can you warn Snoke?  Maybe Snoke can help him.”

 

Rey shakes her head helplessly.  “My comlink is back at the villa.  So is my datapad.”

 

“Then—you know—use the Force,” Army says impatiently, like this solution is obvious.

 

“That’s not how the Force works,” Rey complains.  “I don’t have that power.”

 

“Then Ren is on his own,” Army summarizes the situation grimly. 

 

Rey is increasingly certain that she and Army are not alone.  And given their isolated location, that’s not typical.  “There’s people out there.  I can sense them.”

 

“How many?”

 

Rey concentrates again.  “Four.  Maybe five.  They’re behind us.”

 

“Maybe we can lose them,” Hux mutters.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“I’ve got a shuttle parked not far away.”

 

“Good.  We’ll take it to Coruscant—“

 

“Are you mad??” Army interrupts.  He is vehement.  “We need to stay as far away from the Palace as possible.  That’s ground zero for the coup--”

 

“But we need to warn Kylo!”

 

“I warned him about Jerard.  He didn’t listen.  I’m done trying to help that guy.”

 

Rey sees it differently.  “If Kylo falls, then nowhere is safe for you.  Or me.   We’re in this together, Army,” she reasons.  “We sink or swim with Kylo.”

 

“No.  We’re in this with Snoke,” he counters.  “Let Jerard win for now.  Then Snoke can step back in and reclaim the Empire.  We’ll be safe then.”

 

Rey is back looking over her shoulder.  She thinks she sees a fast-moving object to the rear in the moonlit darkness.  It has to be another speeder with the lights dimmed.  “How far?” she worries.  “I think we’re being followed.”

 

“Just over that rise up ahead.”   

 

As their speeder ascends a natural elevation in the countryside, the moonlight fades suddenly overhead.  Rey looks up to find that it is eclipsed.  “Oh no,” she gasps, pointing up.  “Army, look!”  That’s not a cloud blocking Naboo’s full moon.  It’s a very large wedge-shaped capital ship flying way too low in civilian air space.  Its ominous shadow blocks the moonlight as it settles down over the valley stretched before them.  The First Order has come to lie in wait. 

 

“Fuck!”  Army lets out a very uncharacteristic curse as he glances up.  “That’s a cruiser.  We’re caught.”

 

As if to underscore the point, the cruiser fires on the still yet unseen parked shuttle.  It goes up in a flash explosion. 

 

Rey gulps.  They just lost their ride off-world.  Things just got a lot harder. 

 

Hux pulls the speeder up short, banking hard to the right.  “What now?” he hollers out his exasperation.

 

“Into the orchard,” Rey suggests, pointing to the right.  And as the words come out, she hears the distinctive howl of an incoming TIE fighter.  The cruiser has brought reinforcements. “Oh, this is not good,” she groans.

 

“It’s worse.  Look over there.”  Hux points to several speeders rushing up to intercept them.  Rey can’t see well in the darkness, but it also looks like there are men on speeder bikes as well.  That’s in addition to the unknown craft that’s been tailing them since the villa. 

 

Army Hux’s strategic military mind instantly recognizes the tactic.  “They must have seen me land.  They were waiting for me to collect you so we could return together to this ambush.  Two birds with one stone,” he gripes.  “That’s very efficient.”

 

Suddenly, all of their pursuers begin firing on them at once.  It’s a firefight combined with a chase.   Rey and Army exchange panicked glances. 

 

“Faster!” Rey urges as he begins a snaking slalom path through the neat rows of fruit trees in the orchard they have entered.  The Naboo lake country is a mostly agrarian region.  Between the luxury villas lie expansive orchards, vineyards, and crop lands. 

 

“What now??” Rey hollers.  As the reality of their predicament sets in, she doesn’t like their odds. 

 

Hux gives her a stressed look.   “You still got that sword?”

 

Yes.  Yes, she does. Rey ducks to lay her precious bundle down on the speeder floorboards.  Then she gingerly stands upright in the open cockpit speeder, balancing precariously as she lights her sword and starts to block and parry the incoming shots.  It’s a decent defense for the blaster fire coming from the enemy speeders and the men on bikes. But Rey has her misgivings whether a lightsaber can deflect laser cannon fire from a TIE fighter.  And, lo and behold, it can.  But it’s only a matter of time before one of the fighters launches a heat seeking proton torpedo.  These guys aren’t shooting to disable, Rey knows.  They are shooting to kill. 

 

“Does this thing have shields?” she yells into the wind, hoping Army hears her. 

 

“No.  It’s got two small canons mounted on the front,” he yells back.  And that’s no good because everyone shooting at them is giving chase. 

 

A blaster bolt gets past Rey to graze the speeder.  And then another.  Rey was far more accurate in her training sessions with Kylo but that wasn’t real combat.  And truth be told, her body is tired from being up all night every night with a newborn.  Her mind is fuzzy from sleep deprivation and postpartum hormones.  Rey knows she is not at her sharpest or strongest.   She needs to focus.  But that is so much harder now that a good part of her mind is preoccupied with her helpless son lying on the floorboards.

 

“Turn left into the woods,” Rey orders as she bounces a blaster bolt right back at the shooter on a bike, killing the man cleanly.   Yes, she’s getting back into her groove.  She can do this.  She has to do this or else none of them will survive.  “We’ll lose them in the woods,” Rey says with more hope than confidence. 

 

“If we don’t hit a tree first!” Army worries. 

 

Rey nails another speeder bike with a ricochet shot.  But there are still two more bikes left and three speeders as well. “You got a better idea??” she snarls.

 

“No,” Hux caves.  “Get ready to get down!” he orders as he heads straight for the adjacent wooded area. 

 

Rey drops to her knees and Army thrusts something at her waist.  It’s a blaster.  Rey deactivates her saber and now starts laying down cover fire as she leans out over the back of their speeder.   Hux shoves another gun at her and now she’s got a weapon firing in each hand.  But the sidearm pistols don’t pump out rounds as fast as the high-powered automatic blaster rifles their pursuers are using. 

 

“Where did you learn to shoot?” Hux complains as he keeps glancing back.  “You’re terrible.”

 

Actually, Rey never formally learned to shoot.  She didn’t have a blaster on Jakku.  And Kylo exclusively taught her lightsaber combat during their training. 

 

“Switch!” Hux orders.  “You fly, I shoot.”

 

“Yeah, okay.   Hey!  Watch the baby!”   Incredibly, Carl is sleeping through all this as he is jostled up and down by the erratic motion of the fleeing speeder. 

 

Rey slips into the pilot seat as Army scrambles out to begin firing.  And, yes, this is better.  She’s the natural pilot and he’s the far better marksman.  They are in the woods now and Rey flips back on the speeder’s lights.  She figures there’s no point in hiding now.  It takes all of her concentration to navigate the challenge of the increasingly dense forest.  Behind them, one speeder pilot is not up to the task. He crashes his craft into a tree and a fiery explosion ensues.  After that, the other two speeders slow considerably and the men on speeder bikes take the lead in the pursuit.  That cuts down significantly on the blaster fire coming at them.  But there are still two TIEs tracking them from above the forest canopy shooting now and then.  Thankfully, the TIEs don’t have a clear shot and their laser blasts mostly hit tree limbs high above.

 

“Got him!” Another speeder bike goes down.  “Get us out of here!” Hux hollers.  But Rey is reluctant to emerge from the forest to become a clear target from overhead.  So, she suggests another idea. 

 

“We can’t outgun them or outrun them.  We need to hide.”

 

“Where??”

 

Snoke’s temple, that’s where.  This speeder doesn’t have the temple coordinates saved in its navigation system but Rey thinks she has the location memorized from coding it into every vehicle at the villa.  She takes a deep breath and inputs the numbers into the speeder with shaky fingers.  And yes, they are close, just like she thought.

 

“I know a place.  I think we can get there.” And whoops, their speeder is closing fast on a fallen tree.  It’s too late to avoid it, so Rey grabs for the laser cannon controls and starts blasting her way through to safety. 

 

“What the Hell are you doing??” Hux demands over his shoulder.  “They are behind us!”

 

“Just keep firing!”

 

“They’re getting closer!”

 

Yes, she knows.  But they are approaching the temple entrance fast.  “We’re going to have to jump out.   That way, they will keep following the speeder.”  At least for a minute or two that will buy Rey time to open the temple door with the Force. 

 

“Jump out??”  Hux is not going for it.  “We’re going way too fast for that.”

 

“You got a better idea?” Rey hollers back.

 

“What about the baby?”

 

“I’ll hold him.”

 

“That won’t work!”   As Hux says these words, the speeder shudders from a glancing hit on the back.  It’s a shot from above from a TIE that manages to thread through the tree limbs.  A direct hit would have blown them up.  This hit merely disables them, but it’s a problem nonetheless.  The speeder’s engine cuts out immediately.  Luckily, they are still aloft and gliding because the repulso lifts remain operational.  But the speeder is slowing fast.  Soon, it will be very safe to jump out.  

 

“You keep steering, I’ve got the kid.  Here.”  Army shoves a hot blaster into her hands and stuffs the other into his jacket.  Then he dives for the baby on the floorboards.  

 

“Support his head!” Rey growls as she keeps stealing frantic glances at Hux.  Her heart is in her throat as she watches him half-jump, half-dive out of the speeder.  He lands with an awkward “ooof!” and rolls with his arms around the baby held fast to his chest.   Rey is desperately hoping little Carl’s head is tucked up under Army’s chin to protect him.  

 

Rey leaps out now too.  She somersaults and jumps to her feet to light her sword.  It’s just in time because their pursuers have gained ground fast.  Instantly, they are upon them.   Hux is still on the ground in the underbrush with the screaming baby.  That means Rey brandishing the blue sword is the target who has everyone’s attention.  

 

The Force is with her.  Rey deflects a laser bolt directly into the lone remaining speeder bike pilot as he attempts to run her down.  And as the speeder craft behind it whizzes straight for her, Rey throws her lightsaber end over end.  It was one of Kylo’s favorite tricks for mowing down his practice battle droids.  The fast spinning saber neatly carves the speeder in two, jettisoning its occupants all directions as it disintegrates.  As the survivors pick themselves up, Hux aims and fires from his position on the ground.  He neatly takes out the four enemies who remain before they can shoot back.  That just leaves the trailing speeder and the TIEs circling overhead.  

 

“Nice shooting.” Rey recalls her lightsaber to her hand.  Then she rushes up to Hux and grabs for Carl.  “Is he okay?”   The baby is really melting down.  Carl is scared but is he hurt??   She can’t tell, but she is desperate to know.

 

“Look out!”  It’s the final speeder careening upon them now.  Without thinking, Rey jerks up a hand and quite unexpectedly tosses the two ton fully manned craft with the Force.  Her automatic gesture sends it hard into a nearby tree to explode.  Rey cowers to the ground to hunch over Carl as debris and splintered tree wood rains down.  

 

“Are you okay??”

 

Army nods and pants out, “I’m fine.  The baby is fine.  Let’s move before we’re spotted.” 

 

And, as tempted as Rey is to rip off the baby’s swaddle to investigate, she knows there isn’t time.  So she watches as Army stiffly climbs to his feet.  It’s clear that his leap from the speeder with the baby was a very rough landing, and Army bore the brunt of it.

 

“This way,” Rey guides them on foot.  The first streaks of Naboo’s dawn are appearing on the horizon. Combined with the still bright moonlight, the forest gloom is more grey than black now.  And that helps.  Rey thinks she sort of recognizes where they are.  “We’re close,” she encourages Army.

 

It’s now a scramble through the forest undergrowth as the ships overhead cease firing and now shine bright lights down in an attempt to track their whereabouts.  Hux worries aloud what they both know, “With that cruiser close by, they probably already have reinforcements on the way.”

 

“We’ll be safe when we get to the temple,” breathless Rey gives them both a much needed pep talk.

 

“What temple?  Where are we going?”

 

“Over there,” she points.  “Those stones on the edge of the clearing.”

 

But Hux is right and more pursuers are incoming.  Rey can hear the engines and see the headlights coming at them through the trees.  “We’re gonna have company!” she motions to the newcomers as they break into a sprint.  She and Army practically careen into the outcropping of large stones that marks the temple entrance.  He takes up position to cover her. 

 

“How do we get in?” Army rasps.

 

“With the Force.”

 

“I knew you were gonna say that,” he mutters.

 

Rey is unfocused.  Carl is screaming and she doesn’t know that cry. It’s not his tired cry or his hungry cry.   He’s scared, of course, but is he hurt?  His incessant wail has Rey flustered.  And, shit, is her milk letting down???   This is not the time . . .

 

“Open the door!” Hux snarls.  “They’re almost here!”  He hasn’t started firing yet, hoping to conceal their location.  But they both know that won’t be an option soon.

 

Rey closes her eyes and does her best to block out the baby, Army, and their attackers.   “The Force . . .” she whispers like she had long ago in a moment of near defeat on Starkiller Base.  “The Force . . .”  Please help me, Force.  Rey needs this less for herself than for Carl.  Her baby’s life has just begun.  He deserves a chance to live and to do right by the galaxy.  She and Kylo have made a mess of things, but perhaps the next generation will finally get it right. 

 

A blaster shot whizzes past her arm now.   So much for being concealed.  Rey instinctively turns in the direction of the shot and freezes the hail of blaster rounds that follow it.  

 

Army is impressed.  “Did Ren teach you that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s a good trick.”   Rey has found her Force connection now.  The stone door groans as it slides open to reveal the temple entrance.  “That’s a good trick too,” Hux breathes his approval.

 

“Left,” she pants as she ducks inside.  “Keep going left.”

 

The blaster shots behind them remain frozen, but the troopers who shot them are not.  They are closing in fast.  These aren’t the normal garden variety stormtroopers, Rey sees as she glances back.  Most are dressed in red armor, and some are in black. 

 

“Wait!”  Hux tugs at her.  “Shut the door!” he urges.   “It will slow them down!”

 

“No time.  Come on!”  Rey takes off at a sprint as more blaster bolts fire. They ricochet to scorch the interior temple walls with a thud.  “Come on!  We’ll lose them inside.”  The temple is a maze of twists and turns, dimly lit by some very Sith looking recessed red lights.  Rey alone knows where they are going.  That should be a big help.

 

But she doesn’t plan on how well equipped the troopers are, with scanning that detects body heat and sound.  It neutralizes her advantage completely because the troopers aren’t getting lost like she hoped.  In fact, they are gaining fast.  At most, they are one turn behind them.

 

“Tell me this place has a back door and we won’t end up trapped,” Hux pants beside her.

 

“We’re going to hide.”

 

“In here?”

 

“In the Force.”

 

“W-Whaat?”

 

“You’ll see.”

 

“Which way?”

 

“Left.  Always left.” 

 

“They’re gaining!”  What’s worse, they are shooting now too.  The blaster fire bounces around, making it especially dangerous. 

 

“We’re almost there--oh!”  Rey stumbles.  She keeps upright but just barely, and it costs them precious seconds. 

 

“Come on!” Hux hollers, dragging her forward.  Just then a trooper rounds the corner behind them and takes a shot.  “Owww!” Army grimaces as he recoils and drops the weapon he’s holding. 

 

“How bad?” Rey demands as she shifts Carl in her arms and lights her sword to step in front of Army.  She’s got a baby clutched to her with her left hand and her lightsaber poised to swing in her right hand.  The sword becomes a blue streak as she blocks more blaster bolts.  She sends the incoming fire right back at her attackers and they go down in rapid succession.  When they are safe, she turns back to Army.  “How bad is it?”

 

“I’ll live.”

 

“Good,” Rey pants.  “I’m counting on that. We’re clear—let’s go!”

 

They sprint to the left and now to the left again.  But it’s clear that Army’s injury is slowing him down.  “Go on ahead!” he urges.  But she’s not leaving him.  Army risked his life to warn her of this danger and Rey refuses to abandon him to his death.  But her momentary hesitation combined with their slower pace is just enough for more attackers to appear around the corner.  Rey does her best to defend as she hustles Army forward.  They are almost there.  The very next room holds the promise of safety.

 

Unfortunately, this particular passageway has more than one point of entry.  For while Rey is focused on the four troopers who have emerged through the doorway she and Hux just ducked through, even more troopers appear to her far left. 

 

Rey gulps.  The degree of difficulty just went up.  But she refuses to falter.  She’s a survivor and she will live or die trying.

 

Time seems to slow now as Rey concentrates deeper and deeper in the Force.  She lets it control her movements as her sword becomes a blur of blue.  She stands her ground, whipping lightning fast one-handed blocks as she defends over and over again.  It’s twenty, forty, sixty shots or more from two directions, all safely deflected or thrown back at her attackers.  But there are so many of them, and more keep crowding into the small space.  The longer she fights, the worse their odds get.  Rey knows they have to get into the next room to the portal for the World Between Worlds or all will be lost.  Swallowing her increasing desperation, Rey summons the Force to freeze every blaster shot she sees and all of the visible troopers as well.

 

“Let’s go!” she hollers to Army who is leaning heavily against the wall behind her.  Seeing he needs help, she extinguishes her sword, stuffs it into her chest where she clutches the baby, and drags Army around the corner with her right hand.  Yes, they are almost there.  Rey can see the shimmering wrinkle in time and space that betrays the presence of a vortex in the Force.  It’s less than five meters away now.  “We’re here, we’re here,” she breathes out to encourage fading Hux.  “Just a little bit farther—”

 

But they never make it.  Rey takes a shot to the low back that fells her hard.  She twists to land on the stone floor on her side to protect the baby.  Somehow, she manages to still cling to Carl.  But as soon as she falls, Rey knows she’s not getting up.  She’s hurt badly because she can’t feel her legs.

 

“REY!” Army croaks from behind.  She looks back in horror to see troopers flood through the doorway.  Army too is down on the ground bleeding.   She catches his eye and they both know what’s coming next. 

 

And rather than finish them off immediately, they are held at gunpoint while the troopers wait for their boss to appear.  The lead trooper walks over to kick injured Army hard in the midsection.  Twice.  “Get him up,” the man orders. 

 

Taking advantage of the attention focused on Army, Rey starts to painfully claw her way forward across the floor with one hand.  She’s two meters from the portal, maybe less.   If she can just get there, she will be safe.  

 

“You just got me a promotion, Chancellor,” the lead trooper snarls at Army.  The enmity these men feel for their former general is palpable.  Bizarrely, it’s almost like Rey is the afterthought in this situation.  And that may be her saving grace.  For while Carl screams his lungs out, Rey inches unnoticed in the dim room across the floor.  The troopers who stand guard over her with a blaster aren’t even looking at her.  The show is all Hux, the celebrity kill. 

 

Soon, they’ve got Army muscled up against the wall, with two men holding him and a third pointing a blaster to his head.  Army is pale and bloody and his left shoulder and arm dip at an unnaturally low angle.  But he’s every inch Armitage Hux to the end.  His chin is held high and his upper lip is curled in a sneer.  Even as a bleeding captive, this man is haughty.

 

“Did someone get a picture?” the lead trooper asks.  “I want proof of life and proof of death.  Get good ones. And someone make a recording. This will be on all the newsfeeds when we make the announcement.”  The man gloats gleefully at his captive, “This will make you a star, Chancellor.”

 

Army ignores the comment.  He locks eyes with her lying on the floor bleeding.  “We made a good team,” he tells her like they are the only ones in the room.

 

Rey nods mutely.  She watches as someone takes several flash photographs of Army.  Those must be the proof of life photos.   That means the proof of death ones are coming next.

 

The lead trooper now motions the men holding Hux to step aside.  He reads a short prepared statement for the benefit of the camera that records live.  “Chancellor Armitage Hux, you are condemned to death by Supreme Leader Jerard for crimes against the state.   For treason and conspiracy to aid the usurper Kylo Ren.”  With that perfunctory legalism out of the way, the lead trooper raises his rifle.

 

Rey shuts her eyes.  She doesn’t want to witness the execution of the First Order’s most famous—and infamous—general.  Army Hux is many things, not all of them good.  But he is a man of principles even if Rey does not always agree with those values.  She hated him from afar as an enemy.  But once she got to know him, Army became hard to dislike.  She and Army were unlikely friends and even more unlikely allies, but here they are.  Dying together.  May the Force be with you, Rey blesses her doomed rescuer silently as the lead trooper’s weapon fires.

 

When Rey opens her eyes, all she can see is the portal.  She’s so close and yet so far.  But her attackers don’t know that.  They are dead to the energy field that binds the universe together. They can’t see the shimmering entrance into the cosmic Force.   It was supposed to be her refuge, but it’s too late for her.   At most, Rey has dragged herself six inches.  That effort alone has exhausted her.  There’s no way she has the strength to make it all the way to the portal, even if by some miracle she has the time.

 

“Hux is dead,” someone reports, giving an official time of death and coordinates for the location.  And now that grim task is over with, the lead trooper turns his attention to the less interesting prisoner.  Her.

 

“Guess Hux really was her lover,” the man in charge concludes.  He’s standing over Rey and speaking about her as though she were not there.  “Those holonet tabloids were right.”

 

“Do you think the kid is Hux’s brat?” another man asks.   “If so, it won’t be any use to us.”

 

“Our orders are to grab the kid,” the lead trooper responds.  “What the General does with him is not our concern.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

And now, rough hands reach for the squirming, screaming bundle Rey clutches tight.  She bats them away weakly, hissing, “Don’t touch him!” 

 

That response earns her a painful kick.  “Cease, woman!”

 

But Rey is undeterred.  And suddenly all her fear and pain channel deep within her, kindling a Darkness that has lain dormant since she came to Mortis.  It surges in her now.  It bolsters her, like it had once bolstered bleeding Kylo pounding at his bowcaster wound on Starkiller Base.  In this, her time of greatest need, the Force is with her.  And this time, that Force is Dark.

 

“Just shoot her and grab the kid,” the lead trooper complains about the delay. 

 

It’s the last words he will ever utter.  For Rey risks loosening her grip on Carl to shoot potent Force lightning right at him.  The man writhes in agony, attracting everyone’s attention.  It’s the split-second diversion Rey desperately needs.  For while it’s too late for this wounded and vastly outnumbered Jakku survivor to save herself, she can still save her son. 

 

There are stories of palace intrigues to switch babies in cribs, of princes disguised as paupers, of heirs stolen and hidden from their families.  Tales of princesses who find babies in baskets set to float down rivers, tales of siblings separated at birth who are raised ignorant of their connection, and tales of children smuggled into hiding for their own protection.  The story always ends the same:  the truth comes out.  Blood is thicker than water and the Force is the strongest pull of all.  Fate gets its way in the end.   Rey is counting on this as with her last ounce of fading strength buoyed mostly by the Force, she gathers and heaves her bundled baby son into the portal of the World Between Worlds.  The baby goes in first followed by Rey’s sword hilt that she had also stashed into her armpit.  In rapid succession, the boy and the weapon seem to disappear into the air for all but Rey who understands.

 

For a brief moment of disbelieving silence, everyone stares.

 

“Force protect him,” Rey unabashedly prays aloud, “for he is the future for us all.”  And please, don’t let him have landed on his head.  

 

Rey is depleted from her effort and wincing in pain.  There will be no further rallying moments.  Dimly, her ears register the amazed shouts of the troopers reacting. 

 

“Where did the kid go?”

 

“Look around!  Maybe he’s here.”

 

“He’s not here.  That baby disappeared!”

 

“She’s using her Jedi magic!  Stop her!  Shoot her!”

 

But after witnessing that Force lightning, everyone fears her.  The men stand warily looking at one another until a brave trooper intervenes to grab Rey by the collar of her nightgown, yanking her halfway off the floor.  “Where’s the kid?    What have you done with him?” he demands.

 

“He is safe,” yellow-eyed Rey manages to croak out defiantly. “His father will find him,” she hopes.  And then, there will be Hell to pay.  “My son will live,” she declares.  “He is a Skywalker.  They are very, very hard to kill.”  She’s counting on that for Kylo to save himself on Coruscant.  And for Carl to somehow, somewhere live and prosper in the Force.

 

“Bring him back!” the man yells in her face.  “We need that kid!”   No doubt as a pawn to be used against his father.   And knowing Kylo’s attitude towards his son, that strategy won’t work.  Kylo will refuse to negotiate and little Carl’s life will be forfeit.  This solution—the only solution in the moment—is a better outcome than that. 

 

“Bring him back!” the man orders.

 

“No,” Rey answers back.  Her face twists in an ironic grimace.  “Long live the Skywalkers,” she pants.  And fuck you, she adds to herself.

 

The irate man now thrusts her away hard to the ground, levels his blaster at her chest, and fires.  Rey’s consciousness registers a flash, nothing more.   There is no pain, only peace, as she succumbs to the netherworld of the Force. 


	49. Chapter 49

Kylo wakes abruptly in the night.  His heart is racing.  His senses are immediately on alert.  He hasn’t awoken like this since his uncle lit a sword over his head.  And that’s a realization of itself:  this is no bad dream he can’t remember.  This is the Force. 

 

Something has happened.

 

Or maybe something will happen soon. 

 

It’s an urgent, unsettling queasiness deep in his marrow.  Foretelling of danger.  Of change.  Of destiny shifting to rearrange the future.   All bets are off and all assumptions are risky when the Force quakes and shudders like this.  The anxiety it induces is hard to explain.  But the urgency it engenders is impossible to ignore.

 

Kylo bounds from his bed to dress, dispensing with the mask but grabbing for his sword.  He also pockets a small blaster he keeps hidden.  Instinctively, he knows he will need to be armed.  Somewhere on Naboo, Rey must feel this disturbance too.  Hopefully, it will keep her safe.  But what is the threat exactly?

 

Kylo gets his answer when he walks out his bedroom door to discover six heavily armed praetorians in the hallway. 

 

They shouldn’t be there.

 

He doesn’t bother to ask any questions.  Kylo just summons his power and snaps the necks of all six men simultaneously.  All that training meant as preparation for Darth Vitiate comes in handy now. 

 

Is this Vitiate finally making his move?

 

Could it be Hux?

 

Knowing better than to walk out his front door into the public areas of his Palace, Kylo heads for the open-air private terrace.  And that’s when he looks up to find a star destroyer parked in low orbit over the entire Palace and Senate complex.  Like a looming shadow, the giant ship hangs in the Coruscant night sky, fully visible from the bright lights of the cityscape below. Kylo recognizes the markings.  It’s the _Finalizer_.  Hux’s old ship.

 

Hux.   So this is Hux and his military cronies attempting a coup at long last.  Those com calls from Hux last night must have been an attempt to lure him or maybe a diversion.  Good thing he didn’t take them.

 

A lot of people must be in on Hux’s plot for this degree of mobilization, Kylo realizes.   Incensed by the many traitors in his midst, his anger flares and his power surges.  An angry Dark Skywalker is an awesome thing.  Kylo’s power has been growing for months now all in preparation for the threat of his father-in-law.  But Hux and his cronies pale in comparison to Darth Vitiate.  He can do this, Kylo assures himself.   Then, he raises a hand and summons the Force.  And this time, Kylo actually struggles for a moment when the Dark Side answers his call.  Because when it kicks in, it is a heady rush that upsets his equilibrium.  Yes, the Force is most definitely with him tonight.

 

The threat of the _Finalizer_ must be neutralized. The ship could take out his whole Palace with its orbital autocannons or with a well-executed bombardment from its TIEs.  And so, reminding himself that size doesn’t matter, Kylo concentrates his rage and focuses his hate.  Then he rips the massive capital ship out of the sky.  He crashes its prow to impale at a sharp angle into the large green space adjacent to his Palace.  The sound is deafening.  It feels like all of Coruscant shudders from the impact.  Immediately, the ship erupts in many explosions.  

 

His gardeners will be pissed to find that when they arrive in the morning, Kylo smirks.  But let that be a lesson to anyone who would dare challenge him.  And truthfully, Kylo stands surprised and impressed by his feat.   He has to take a deep breath and collect himself before things get out of control.  Because a power move like that should utterly deplete him.  But it doesn’t.  It is frankly a little scary how easy that felt. And . . . how good.

 

What’s next?   Kylo refuses to flee.  He will not be herded off his Palace on his capital world.  He’s going to have to subdue the revolt here to reestablish control.  And since any and all people are suspect, he may have to do it alone.  

 

Knowing better than to get dragged into fighting inside, Kylo starts climbing up.  He deploys the fire escape ladders and climbs for the Palace rooftop.  From there, he can survey the landing pad and Palace grounds to assess what he’s up against.  

 

Well, fuck.   Hux means business and he isn't taking any chances.  There are tanks surrounding the Palace placed at regular intervals.  All entrances and exits appear blocked. The landing pad is completely empty of ships.  Hux must have wanted to ensure that there was no easy escape route off world.  Everyone knows he’s the best starpilot in the galaxy, and if he gets in a cockpit no one will catch him.  In place of the parked ships, the brightly lit landing pad is full of personnel.  A lot of personnel.  It’s mostly elite troopers in red and black armor, but Kylo spies some praetorians who must be in on the plot, too.  

 

Other men clearly are not.  There are several squads of regular stormtroopers with helmets off and hands up herded to the far corner.  As Kylo watches, more of the workaday crew for his Palace are marched over to join them.  These men and woman look to be the nighttime staff.  And wait—is that Mrs. Faris?  Kylo sees two elite troopers muscling his formidable head housekeeper into the detainment area.  She’s putting up a fight, Kylo sees.  Even from this distance, he can see that she’s giving her jailers a piece of her mind.  It makes him smile.  It also gives him an idea.  So, Kylo sits tight on the rooftop and lets the traitors continue to determine for him who is friend and who is foe.  

 

Peering down from above unnoticed, Kylo counts at least a hundred elite troopers outside his Palace.  There are probably more inside scouring the interior for him.  Sure enough, voices alert Kylo to the presence of men searching the private terrace he just left.  Kylo waits for them to come up empty and head back inside.  It’s not yet time to reveal himself.  He’s going to watch how this develops.

 

More captured staff members are now marched out onto the landing platform.  It’s a motley crew of more regular troopers in white armor, overnight maintenance and housekeeping staff in jumpsuits, and even two praetorians.   They join the ranks of the existing detainees who are regime loyalists.  It’s not much, Kylo decides, but it’s the closest thing he has to an army.  

 

Elite troopers begin exiting the palace to confer.  They must be flummoxed that their inside search has come up empty.  The officers in charge—who are too far away for Kylo to recognize—are visibly concerned.  Plus, the fate of the _Finalizer_ has everyone spooked.  The fiery stern of the star destroyer poking high into the air is visible to everyone.  There is a lot of frantic pointing and gesturing.

 

Now that it is determined that Leader Ren is not inside, the traitors begin searching elsewhere.  Speeder craft appear to shine floodlights down on the Palace grounds.  And really?  Do they think he is hiding in the bushes?   Kylo is almost insulted.  But it appears time is running out for him to skulk on the rooftop.  A speeder begins canvassing the far end of the Palace building from above.  That means Kylo is about to be discovered.  So, emboldened by his success scuttling the _Finalizer_ , Kylo tries that same trick again.  With the help of the Force, he grabs the approaching speeder and hurls it hard into the ranks of the traitors milling on the landing pad below.  It’s so simple that Kylo repeats the feat with all six speeders he sees.  Plucking them up with an invisible hand and then hurling them into the tank positions.  

 

Panic ensues.  

 

No one knows where he is still.  They don’t know where to shoot or where to look. Kylo enjoys the confusion.   It’s almost comical from his vantage point. 

 

Next, Kylo selects officers below one by one to snap their necks with the Force.  It dismantles the chain of command and engenders more chaos.  For he is an unseen attacker that no one knows how to defend against.  And suddenly, there are far more minions to follow orders than leaders to make decisions.   

 

There are casualties everywhere on the landing pad, but there are still plenty of hostiles visible.  Plus, who knows how many remain inside the Palace.  As powerful as he is, Kylo knows better than to attempt to subdue all the traitors on his own.  It’s time to put his plan into motion to assemble an impromptu defense. 

 

Kylo begins moving along the rooftop, heading for the far end where the loyal members of the Palace staff are standing with their hands up.  That’s eight floors below him.  It’s way too far to jump.  What he really needs is a grappling hook from one of those downed troopers’ utility belts to use to repel down the Palace edifice. But he’s in luck.  Up comes another speeder.  And rather than toss this craft into the crowd of traitors below, Kylo drags it towards him with the Force. Then he lights his sword and dispenses with the three occupants, tossing them out while he climbs in.  Then Kylo just rides down to the surface. 

 

“Looking for me?” he growls as he jumps out. 

 

There are only about eight troopers left guarding the Palace detainees. Kylo takes them out easily.  But now he is exposed to his enemies.  His iconic sword has not gone unnoticed.  A hail of blaster bolts launches his way from the main group.  Kylo freezes them all with a blink as he starts assembling his reinforcements. 

 

Quite a few of the household staff he has just liberated look intimidated by the destruction and chaos surrounding them.  These are civilians, not trained soldiers.  One housemaid looks to be in near hysterics.  But at least some of these people could be useful. 

 

“Troopers, fall in with me,” Kylo orders to the men in white armor missing helmets. “The rest of you who want to fight, grab a gun from a dead man and start firing.”   Kylo directs his next words to his housekeeper standing in her nightgown with her hair down.  She reminds him strongly of his mother but she is no general like Leia Organa.  “Everyone else find cover and hide.”

 

Mrs. Faris takes umbrage at this suggestion.  “My father was an Imperial Corporal.  He taught me how to shoot.”   To underscore her point, Mrs. Faris nabs a heavy-duty blaster from a fallen traitor, hefts it like an old pro, flipping the safety off with her thumb before she begins firing away.  His housekeeper yells at the crying housemaid over her barrage of surprisingly accurate cover fire, “Get ahold of yourself!  There will be time for that later.”

 

And who can argue with that sentiment?  With his small makeshift army of ceremonial troopers who usually hang out in hallways giving directions, maintenance workers who are better with power tools than blasters, and domestic staff who are normally seen and not heard, Kylo proceeds to take back his Palace.  The task is surprisingly easy now that the onsite coup chain of command has been decimated.  It’s the best illustration ever of how much leadership matters. With a star destroyer ripped from orbit, senior officers choked, and speeders and tanks tossed around like toys all courtesy of the magical Force, the remaining traitors lose confidence fast.  

 

But that doesn’t mean they are giving up.  These men all know that if they don’t die today, they will die soon.   “No quarter,” Kylo orders grimly. “Shoot anyone who flees.”  He refuses to let anyone escape to fight another day.  But how deep does this conspiracy go?  Kylo worries that this attack was way too well planned and equipped to be the work of a handful of men.  He knows he will have his hands full investigating this revolt. But first, he has to retake his Palace and get to its command center to start evaluating things.  

 

There’s no way to keep this quiet.  Not with a star destroyer impaled on his front lawn for all Coruscant to see.  The local authorities have appeared to deal with that mess.   Fireships are on duty, along with fleets of ambulance speeders.  Have the Coruscant cops figured out what’s going on?   They have.  And that adds to Kylo’s ragtag army as he conscripts them to his cause.  

 

An hour later as dawn is breaking, his Palace is his again.  Kylo interrogates several traitors who are wounded but not dead.  It gives him a few leads, but no sense of the larger conspiracy.  The men whose minds he read were too far down the pecking order to have interacted with the key conspirators.  But Kylo is starting to doubt their leader was Hux.  Armitage Hux would not have delegated the dirty work at the Palace to others.   He would have been here himself.

 

Kylo heads now to investigate the senior crew from the downed _Finalizer_.  That effort yields a few names and Hux isn’t one of them.  But General Jerard is.  And that gets Kylo pondering all sorts of possibilities.  He decides he needs to talk to Hux.  Even if his Chancellor isn’t a conspirator, Kylo is certain Hux knows plenty about this coup attempt that he hasn’t shared.  So he deputizes the few loyal praetorians he has remaining to find his Chancellor.  Find me Hux, Kylo orders. Track the position sensor he wears.  That’s how Hux had found Kylo bleeding in the Starkiller woods years ago.  If Hux is part of the coup, he definitely won’t be wearing the tracker.   But if he is, bring him in.

 

Hux’s position sensor reveals a remote location on Naboo.  He must be with Rey and maybe also with Snoke, Kylo scowls.  He’s not sure how to interpret that information.  So he dispatches the praetorians and a confirmed loyal squad of troopers to Naboo to investigate.  Then Kylo turns his attention back to assessing the current state of his military.  He wants the location and commanding officers for all capital ships accounted for, as well as the status of all major garrisons scattered throughout the galaxy.  And that’s harder than it sounds with ships entering and exiting hyperspace, and wide-ranging time zones across different sectors of the galaxy. 

 

The daytime Palace professional staff begins to arrive now.  Kylo takes each of his aides aside to interrogate them personally.  He will not risk any further disloyalty.   All the staffers he tests are loyal.  They’d be fools to show up if they were not.  Kylo decides that any absent personnel are to be presumed hostile until proven otherwise.  He’s not taking any chances.

 

The rush of combat fades fast and the difficult task of figuring out what’s happening begins.   But Kylo is determined that he will not win the battle but lose the war.  This conspiracy went deep and he will need to root out all the traitors lest they try again.  Punishment for this sort of thing must be swift, decisive, and merciless.

 

Hours into the fog of war comes news that gets his attention.  “Hux is dead.”   An aide offers over a datapad. “Look here, Sir.  Here’s the proof from the mission to Naboo.”  It’s a grisly closeup picture of Armitage Hux lying dead.  

 

Kylo’s eyes narrow and his lips tighten.  “Who sent this?”

 

“They’re on the comlink now, Sir.”

 

Kylo grabs the comlink and growls, “This is Ren. Tell me what you’ve got.”

 

The comlink crackles with static before the transmission clears.  “We found Hux dead. Looks like he was killed by our own.”

 

“Conspirators?”

 

“Probably.  But there’s only dead men here, Sir, and they don’t talk.  But they are elite troopers like the rest of Jerard’s men at the Palace.”

 

“Arrest the leadership at the local garrison.  They’ll talk.”  Someone approved those soldiers’ activities.  Kylo plans to get to the bottom of this plot, if he has to read a thousand minds to do it. 

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“There’s another picture,” the aide standing next to him swipes once on the datapad.  Now, Kylo sees a full length shot of dead Hux.  “It must be dark there because the lighting is bad.  But you can tell it’s the Chancellor.”

 

Dead Hux is not what holds Kylo’s attention.  He is focused on another person’s hand in the far corner of the picture.   It looks to be a woman’s hand and it has a distinctive blue and gold ring on the fourth finger. 

 

Kylo swallows hard.   Then he starts blinking fast.  Could it be?  His heart is pounding at the possibility.

 

The voice on the other end of the comlink keeps talking.  “There must have been a chase and a fight.  We came across lots of bodies along the way.   Leader, Sir, we found Hux in a very strange place. It’s some alien cave or something out here in the countryside.”

 

“Gungan?” Kylo suggests as he tries to enlarge the picture.  Yes, that’s his mother’s ring.  Fuck.  He has a bad feeling about this. 

 

“Gungan?  I don’t think so.  But it’s very old.  Hux wasn’t alone.  There is a civilian woman here among the dead.”

 

“The woman in the picture with the blue ring?” Kylo chokes out.

 

“Affirmative.  Shot in the back.  In the chest too.  Looks like close range.  Same as Hux.  They were executed.”

 

They were executed.  “Fuck!”  Kylo swears aloud now under his breath.  A long silence follows while Kylo tries but fails to form the words to ask for a picture of the dead woman.   Because that will confirm what he already knows. That Rey is dead.  That she died running from his enemies with Hux as her protector.  With a heavy heart, Kylo realizes now that he got it wrong.  Hux hadn’t been a conspirator, he had been an ally all along.  Warning him about Jerard.  Heading to check on Rey.  Had Hux accidentally led the traitors to Rey?  Or had they known where to find her?  Kylo will probably never know that answer.  And maybe it doesn’t matter.  Because, oh Gods, Rey is dead . . . she’s dead . . . .

 

Where the fuck was Vitiate?   Why hadn’t he been there to save her?

 

“Sir?   Are you still there, Sir?”

 

“I’m here.”  And now, another awful thought occurs to him.  “Did you find a baby?”

 

“Negative.”

 

“It would be a newborn baby boy,” he half-whispers.

 

“Negative.  But we’ll look around some more. This place is a maze and it’s very dim.  There are lots of places to hide a body.”

 

“Keep searching,” Kylo rasps. 

 

He is torn.  This is not the time to run off to Naboo.  Kylo knows he needs to solidify his control, fully investigate the coup attempt, and assess the remaining threat.  He also needs to oversee the media response to this very public event and probably appear publicly himself to assure everyone he’s unharmed and in charge.  No, this is definitely not the time to drop everything to run to Naboo.  And besides, there’s nothing he can do for Rey now.  

 

“Sir?” The man on the other end of the comlink is looking for further instructions.  And that’s when yet another aide holding a datapad approaches Kylo to interrupt.  “Sir??”

 

“Hold on, Trooper.”

 

The aide reports, “This was uploaded to the holonet half an hour ago.  It’s gone viral on all major worlds.  We just noticed it.”  The aide taps the datapad and Kylo watches the grainy, dark tape of Hux’s execution.  It’s a minute long at most.

 

“Those fools made a martyr of him,” Kylo decides.  Then he watches the tape a second time with the sound turned way up.  The background noise is a baby crying.  His baby crying.  Fuck.  Kylo closes his eyes and exhales.  This keeps getting worse.  

 

He has heard and seen enough secondhand.  Kylo makes a snap decision.  “Find me a shuttle,” he barks to an underling.  “Get it fully fueled and armed.”  Then, he issues orders into the comlink.  “Don’t touch anything.   Don’t move the bodies.  I’m coming.”

 

Kylo has to see for himself.  To understand what happened.  It’s a very risky thing to leave Coruscant mere hours after a failed revolt, but this is important.  Kylo takes a few senior staff members and a squad of troopers with him. Then, he practically melts the shuttle’s hyperdrive to get to Naboo. 

 

Three hours later, Kylo leads his troopers through an ancient stone doorway in a wooded copse in the remote Naboo lake country.  The troopers behind him flash lights to illuminate the way as they follow the path the first responders had taken to find Hux’s beacon. 

 

“What is this place?  And what’s with the alien language?  It’s fucking spooky in here,” the guy on the left grumbles.  His men don’t know where they are, of course. 

 

But Kylo does. “You’re in a Sith temple.  That’s Kittat, the ancient language of the Sith.  Those are names of great Sith Masters.”  Kylo’s eyes slant to his right where a trooper’s lantern lights up a vicious curse engraved on the stone wall.  It a florid death wish for the Galactic Republic, written in such melodramatic terms that Kylo might roll his eyes were he not so focused on the grim task at hand. 

 

“Why would Hux be here?” a trooper asks. 

 

“He was led here.  She led him here.  Probably to hide.”  Vitiate must have told Rey about this place.  Kylo explored his share of surviving Sith temples during his years as Snoke’s Apprentice.  But he never knew about this one.

 

“Why would they want to hide here?   There’s no cover.   There’s no exit.  It seems more like a trap,” the trooper reasons.

 

“I guess it was the best choice in the circumstances,” another trooper volunteers, and Kylo wishes his men would shut the fuck up.  Because none of this matters.  All that matters is that Rey is dead and he’s about to see the evidence for himself.  Each passing footfall increases his dread at what he will find.

 

They round five more corners and come upon a small room.  This room is brightly lit with artificial floodlights the local men have brought in.  An investigative unit is here, giving the room the look of a crime scene, not a battlefield.

 

“Leader, Sir, welcome.”   The ranking man nervously salutes and begins his report.  It’s a rush of words about estimated time of death and cause of death for Hux.  Kylo ignores the speaker and his dead Chancellor and surprises everyone when he crouches beside the body of the anonymous woman.    She lies face down.  As reported, she was shot in the back.  But the kill shot was higher. The exit flashburn to her torso is huge.  More than enough to fry all her vital organs instantly. But at least it was quick, Kylo consoles himself.

 

He takes a deep breath.  Then gently, he rolls the woman over.  It’s like he feared.   It is Rey. 

 

She died with yellow eyes.  They are still open and her mouth is a round “oh” of shock and pain.  Rey must have been roused from sleep.  She’s wearing a bathrobe and nightgown that look like something his mother would own.  Her body is stiff and cold.  She’s been dead far longer than the few hours it took him to get here.  And that tells him that Rey’s death was the disturbance in the Force that woke him in the night.  Her death warned him in time to save his Empire.  But it was already too late to save her. 

 

“Rey.  Oh, R-Rey.” 

 

The words escape his lips in a whisper.  Kylo brushes her tangled hair back from her face and feels the despair welling up within him.  He is—was—so angry with Rey for betraying him. For leaving him.  But he didn’t want this end for her.   If they could not be together, then Kylo was perfectly fine with Rey living in exile.  That way, there would always be the hope that she might one day regain her senses and wake up to the menace that her father truly is.  As long as Rey was alive, there was the possibility—no matter how remote—that he and Rey might reconcile.  But now, that hope is gone. 

 

It’s a lot to process. Kylo is enraged at his enemies, crushed by Rey’s loss, and fearful for his future now.  So too he is guilty, regretful, and hopeless.  Kylo feels every Dark emotion as he reacts to her loss. 

 

Everyone around him has been focused on Hux.  Apparently, no one has given any thought to his civilian companion until Leader Ren showed up.   Now, everyone is watching curiously as Kylo gathers her into his lap, clasping her to his chest as he closes his eyes and slowly rocks back and forth.  “Rey.” 

 

He buries his face in her hair and sobs.  He’s always been the emotional type.  Far too emotional for the Jedi life his family planned for him.  Given to obsessions and extremes that his Dark Master rarely bothered to temper.  Kylo learned long ago to ride the crest of his emotions, to give vent to his feelings in words, in violence, or in the Force.  But after the drama of today’s coup attempt, the initial euphoria of victory has given way to uncertainty and suspicion, and now this soul-crushing news is confirmed true . . .   Kylo Ren is undone.  He has never felt so alone.  So beset by troubles.

 

The room falls silent now in the face of his raw grief.

 

“Did you find a baby?”   Kylo lifts his face to find the eyes of the ranking man from on-world.  “Did you find my son?”

 

The man visibly gulps at this reveal.  “We didn’t find the body of a baby, but we did find this.”  The man snaps his fingers at an underling who steps forward to display a dirty pacifier.  

 

Kylo looks at it bleakly.  It just confirms what that footage of Hux’s death had revealed:  his son was here.   And that means the conspirators took him.  And now that their bid to depose Kylo has failed, his son’s life will most likely be forfeit.  Maybe they let his son live so that he could be used as bait or leverage.  But those tactics are risky now that Kylo has effectively put down the initial revolt.  At this point, the boy’s kidnappers will be on the run and no one wants a newborn baby to slow them down or identify them. 

 

“We’ll find him, Sir,” the lead man says staunchly. 

 

Kylo shoots down this false hope.  “He’s probably already dead.   If he’s not, he will be soon.”

 

No one contradicts his blunt reasoning.  They all just look away uncomfortably.

 

Kylo gazes again at the pacifier and says forlornly in a choked voice, “May the Force be with you, son.”   And remembering how he had once told Rey to get rid of the child, Kylo feels ashamed.  For he has failed in every way as a father.  He had been far worse than Han Solo.  Kylo hadn’t wanted the boy, he had never met the boy, he had never supported him nor helped his mother.  Instead, he exiled and disinherited him.  Kylo had even worried about the boy as a future rival.  And some small part of him had even been jealous of the love Kylo knew Rey was showering on him.  The great irony is that it is his boy’s relationship to him that will cost the child his life.  That innocent baby will die because he is Kylo Ren’s kid.  Because he is born a Skywalker prince with the magic Force.

 

It is the same for Rey.  She was so young.  Perhaps too young for the roles she would play and decisions she would make. And now, like her son, Rey is dead before her time.   That is how all Skywalker women end.  His great-grandmother made it to middle age before she died horribly in her son’s arms. His grandmother didn’t even make it to thirty before she died mysteriously in the care of the Jedi.  His own mother should have had decades left to live, but she succumbed to war injuries.  And now, Rey dies in her early twenties.  The Skywalker women live long enough to birth the next generation.  That’s the only guarantee they get.   The rest is up for grabs.  

 

Poor Rey never got her normal life and a family.   Kylo knows now that he too will never achieve his happily ever after.  And if the baby is not recovered, then the line of the Skywalker Chosen Ones ends with him.  There was only one woman for Kylo and now she’s gone forever.  There won’t be any more children.  

 

Vitiate will just have to create another family of unwitting pawns, Kylo thinks grimly. But why the Hell did he let this happen?  It doesn’t make sense.  Vitiate just forfeited two of the three people who might have let him out.

 

Kylo glances over at dead Hux.  Whatever Hux’s motivations were in this coup, he had clearly tried to help Rey.   But why would she have taken refuge here?  Kylo squints into the bright floodlights a moment.  It registers somewhere deep in his mind that they remind him of something.  And that’s when insight dawns. 

 

“Kill the lights!” Kylo orders suddenly. 

 

Several confused looking men follow out the command.  No one among these laymen understands why he needs darkness to see what he’s looking for.   But they obey and the room becomes very dim. 

 

Sure enough, there is a faintly shimmering Force portal close to where Rey had been killed.  The blinding brightness of the floodlights plus Kylo’s teary eyes had obscured the teasing entrance.  But now, it is obvious. His men can’t see it.  But Kylo sees the blurry, churning, almost pixelated look to the spot that reveals a passageway into another reality.  He stands to his feet now to approach to be sure.  Yes, this is a Force portal just like the one on Mustafar.

 

Now, Kylo understands Rey’s objective in the temple.  She had come seeking sanctuary in the World Between Worlds.  And she had nearly made it to safety before she had been killed.  A few more feet, and Rey would have slipped away from this reality.  How had she known about the World Between Worlds?   Probably from Vitiate.  Kylo and Rey had never discussed it.  It was supposed to be a surprise for the trip to Mustafar Castle they never took.

 

“Put her onboard,” Kylo announces as he motions to Rey’s body.  “Bring Hux along too,” he decides as an afterthought.

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Tell the pilot to set course for the Zakuul system beyond the Rim.”  

 

“Not back to Coruscant, Sir?”

 

“No.”  He has business to settle first.  Kylo refuses to live in fear of the hidden Sith any longer.   He will find Vitiate in his prison and confront him.   Kylo refuses to be his pawn.  But he also refuses to waste effort reasserting control of his Empire only to cede it to Vitiate in the end.  

 

The trip to the Zakuul system consumes time Kylo does not have to spare. The scope of the coup plot is still emerging, but what Kylo has uncovered is not encouraging.  The revolt is more than just an attack on his Palace.  A sizeable chunk of his military has gone AWOL.  General Jerard is nowhere to be found.  He’s off the grid with half the First Order Mid Rim fleet.  Other capital ships and garrisons in the Outer Rim are not responding either.  All in all, there is way too much firepower unaccounted for at the moment.  It doesn’t take a genius to realize this revolt is not over yet. 

 

But still, Kylo doggedly heads for Zakuul.  He consumes himself with his counter-coup efforts for the journey.  If he focuses hard, he can almost forget his dead wife lying in the back and his missing baby son he never met.

 

When the shuttle exits hyperspace, Kylo finds the giant metal orb of Mortis awaiting him.  It looks like an enormous cage to his eye.   And that’s appropriate considering it’s the eons-old jail for an uber-powerful Sith Lord.  The shuttle is immediately drawn into the ephemeral realm of the Force.  Kylo and everyone else onboard immediately lose consciousness.  Some undetermined time later, Kylo blinks awake next to his dazed pilot.  The rest of the men and women onboard are regaining their wits as well.  They crowd into the cockpit.  Everyone looks to him for an explanation.

 

“What is this place?” the pilot speaks up first.  He’s frowning as he punches at the shuttle controls.  “It’s not on any of our charts.”

 

Kylo’s answer reassures no one.  “We are in the Force.  This is not a place on any star chart.  You cannot navigate here.  You have to be welcomed.”

 

No one knows how to respond to that befuddling statement.  But his dogged chief of staff asks pointedly, “Why are we here, Supreme Leader?”

 

“And who the Hell is that guy?” his thoroughly spooked pilot chimes in as he points to a screen showing an external view of the shuttle. 

 

Kylo peers over the pilot’s shoulder to recognize the figure of Vitiate.  This must be the man himself, not one of his posturing projection versions.  The blood red swords and sleek black armor are gone.  The ancient Sith is swathed in black velvet robes trimmed in silver.  It’s eerily like how Kylo remembers a version of his grandfather dressing from a long-ago jaunt into the World Between Worlds.  It was a style that had impressed him, so Kylo had copied it for himself. 

 

Kylo blinks at the unexpected recurring visual motif.  The strange coincidences and persistent patterns of the Skywalkers have a meaning that eludes him.   But Kylo sees that the fashion he aped from his grandfather was a reflection of another man entirely.  And in this too, Kylo feels somewhat duped.  Nothing is ever what it seems at first glance in his family.

 

“Sir?   Shall we treat him as hostile?”

 

“He is hostile.  But you can’t kill him.  He’s immortal.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“He’s who I came to see.”

 

“We’ll cover you,” the lead trooper speaks up immediately.

 

“No.   Stand down.  You’ll only get yourself killed.  He’s a Sith Master,” Kylo reveals. 

 

Those around him exchange glances.  “Well, shit,” the lead trooper exhales under his breath, pretty much summing things up for everyone.  “This is not our day, Leader.”

 

“Yes,” Kylo agrees wholeheartedly.

 

“I thought the Sith were dead,” his chief of staff frowns. 

 

“All except him.  He can’t die.   That’s why he’s here. In jail.”   Kylo turns now to the lead trooper. “Stand by at the top of the ramp with Hux’s body.  I will deal with the Sith myself.”  He casts stern eyes around the group.  “No one interferes.”

 

Then Kylo heads to the back of the ship to collect his dead wife. 

 

“Leader, Sir, are you sure this is wise?” his nagging chief of staff worries as he follows. 

 

“He’s not going to kill me,” Kylo says over his shoulder.  “He needs me.”  Vitiate needs him more than ever now that Rey is dead and the baby is lost.  Now, there is no one else capable of balancing the Force to let him out.  And that advantage is what has emboldened Kylo to confront his nemesis on his own turf.  He hefts Rey’s body wrapped in his cape and marches out of his shuttle. 

 

“I have foreseen this day,” old Vitiate rumbles solemnly before Kylo is even halfway down the ramp.  It’s annoying how much gravitas this guy has.  “The Force never lies,” his foe says smugly before Kylo has fully emerged from his ship.

 

That ‘I told you so’ attitude grates.  “Yeah?” Kylo jeers.  “Did you foresee this??”   He yanks back the portion of his cape that covers Rey’s face, revealing her open, unblinking Sith eyes and terrified expression. She had died in agony, and it shows. 

 

“No,” Vitiate answers softly.  “I did not.”  He moves closer to gaze down on Rey’s body, raising a hand to brush at her cold cheek.   His gloating attitude is gone.  Suddenly, the Sith Emperor looks very displeased.  “Who did this?  How did it happen?”  Vitiate’s own eyes flash yellow now, something Kylo never witnessed in Snoke.  It’s a bit intimidating, actually.  For it is a glimpse of the true die-hard Sith that lies beneath his calm, wiseman veneer.

 

“I found her dead in a Sith temple on Naboo with Hux.”

 

“And the baby?  Where is Carl?”

 

“I don’t know.”  Kylo looks away as he laments, “She didn’t even have a weapon on her.  It looks like she was roused from bed and fled.”

 

“She would have taken the baby with her—“

 

“There was no sign of him.   Either he’s dead or he’s a hostage.  But he’s lost.”   Kylo gives vent to his rage now as he passes judgement, “Some father you are!   Where the Hell were you when she needed you?  She was alone and unprotected with a newborn!  There were dead men all over that temple!  Jerard had multiple strike teams pursuing her!”  And even as the words leave his lips, Kylo is uncomfortably aware that the same condemnation could be made of himself.  He blames Vitiate, but he also blames himself.  Rey had been caught between her conflicting loyalties to her husband and to her father.  In the end, she died for it.

 

Vitiate looks livid as his eyes flash yellow again.  “I did not know—”

 

“Don’t act so surprised,” Kylo snaps.  “Surely you felt her death.”

 

“Strange that I did not,” Vitiate answers, sounding puzzled.  “But then, I was not Force bonded with her.”  The Sith purses his lips with displeasure as he resumes his questions.  “Hux tried to save her?”

 

“Yes.   He must have been tipped off.” 

 

“He is dead too?”

 

“Yes.”   Kylo turns back to the shuttle and nods.  Two troopers descend the ramp carrying the body of his Chancellor as Vitiate watches with a deepening frown.  The flashburn to Hux’s chest is enormous.   That guy died horribly.  Kylo almost feels sorry for him.

 

But his eyes narrow as he now accuses, “You knew, didn’t you?   You knew there was a plot!  Were you behind it?   Was that you pretending to be Jerard?  Are those your forces who have disappeared to some secret rendezvous point?”

 

“No.”  Vitiate’s denial is unequivocal. 

 

“I don’t believe you,” Kylo retorts. 

 

“You should.  Because I would never have endangered Rey and the baby.  All along, I have been on your side,” his father-in-law argues.  “But you are too stubborn and insecure to realize it.”

 

That response is maddening.  “Liar!  Your only side is yourself!”  Kylo looks his enemy directly in the eyes and warns, “Do not underestimate my power.”  Today he pulled a star destroyer out of orbit.  “Whatever you are plotting, I will defeat you.  Bring it on, Sith, because you have met your match.  I will get my revenge,” he vows.

 

The Sith Emperor shoots his Apprentice a stern look of warning.  “That is your grief talking, so I will excuse it.  I understand your anger, Apprentice.”  Vitiate’s eyes keep wandering down to Rey in his arms.  “Today, I lost a daughter and a grandson—“

 

“And I lost a wife and a son and I nearly lost my Empire!”  As it is, Kylo may return home to a civil war.  The galaxy could topple into chaos again.   All thanks again to the Skywalkers.

 

Talk of the Empire does not go over well in this context.  “You fool!” his old Master hisses.  “Empires come and go, wars begin and end, but there was only one Rey!   And now, your only son and heir, the culmination of the two lines of the Chosen Ones, is lost!   That means more than any Empire ever will!” Darth Vitiate is livid in his disapproval.  “Only now at the end do you begin to appreciate what you threw away!  The ultimate achievement is not power, it is love.  And Rey and Carl gave you an opportunity to combine them both.  All that potential, all that Force, all that family.  It was everything a man of your position could want.  But you cast it aside like a proud fool!”

 

Kylo is having none of it.  “You turned her against me!”

 

“You have done that yourself!  Scorning her, rejecting her, divorcing her, abandoning her!  She did not deserve this fate--“

 

“I leave you your handiwork,” irate Kylo interrupts.  He’s heard enough.  He stoops to lay Rey on the ground, arranging her bloody carbon-scored nightclothes as best as he can for modesty.  He deliberately avoids looking at Rey’s face.  But it’s too late to unsee what he has seen.  Kylo knows for certain that the image of her pained death mask expression and yellow eyes will haunt his dreams.

 

And that gives him pause.  He sits back on his heels to process the moment, gulping the whole time to keep his composure.  The enormity of what has occurred is starting to sink in.  He can no longer busy himself with work to pretend it didn’t happen.  Fuck.  Kylo needs to get out of here before he unmans himself before his nemesis.   So, he climbs to his feet and motions the two troopers who brought out Hux back into the shuttle. 

 

“I can help you,” Darth Vitiate offers.  “Apprentice, you need help.”

 

“I don’t want your help!” Kylo explodes.  He turns away and mutters, “I don’t want anything from you,” as he heads for the ramp. 

 

But the wily Sith sorcerer is undeterred. His voice is an insidious baritone purr from behind. “I have the power to save the one you love.”

 

Fuck.  In his anger and grief, Kylo had forgotten about that.  He stops in his tracks. 

 

“I have the power to save the one you love,” Darth Vitiate repeats, dangling before him the forbidden fruit of the unnatural Dark power of the Sith.  “I can bring her back.”

 

Can he do that?   Can Vitiate truly raise the dead?  Kylo hesitates. He is torn. This is the ultimate temptation.

 

His old Master knows it, too. “I have the power to save the one you love.  With your Jedi healing skills and my Sith resurrection secrets, we can make Rey as good as new.   If we work together, I know we can save her,” the Sith mastermind promises, adding the insidious platitude, “No one is ever really gone.”

 

The breath catches in Kylo’s throat as he considers.  And now, the crafty Eternal Emperor spells it out.  “I have the power to save the one you love.  And you have the power to release me.”

 

There it is.   The quid pro quo Kylo has long been anticipating.  But in exchange for freeing this menace to wreak havoc on the galaxy, Kylo is not being offered his Empire back.   He’s being offered Rey. 

 

He whirls and shouts, “No!   No deal!”

 

“Are you sure about that?” his foe wheedles. 

 

And for a brief moment, Kylo wants to second guess himself.  To give into the fantasy scenario in which Rey is revived and healed and things are back as they were before Vitiate. Just the two of them in love living in his Palace. But too much has happened now.  That dream died over a year ago.  He and Rey were over long before she turned up dead in a temple. 

 

“No.”  Kylo says it again to bolster his conviction. “No.  No deal.”  He won’t be manipulated into a bad decision. And now, more than ever, he’s convinced that Vitiate was behind the coup.  “You failed!” he gloats miserably. “You failed!  Your plan didn’t work and you killed Rey and the child in the process.  I hope you’re happy.”

 

Lord Vitiate bristles.  “Those men were not acting under my orders.”

 

“And yet they achieved all the aims you have warned about,” Kylo observes coldly. “The threat of losing the Empire and an attack on my family in exile.  How convenient,” Kylo insinuates. 

 

“Do not blame me,” the Sith growls back. “You reap what you sow, Apprentice.”

 

And that’s an outrageous statement coming from this meddling puppet master bored from too long in Force jail.  “No,” Kylo corrects bitterly, “I reap what you sow!  Isn’t that the whole point of my family?” For the Skywalkers, like Rey, were created to achieve this man’s objectives.  One and all, the Chosen Ones are pawns in his galactic chess game of power.  “That ends with me!  I refuse to do your bidding!  I’m going back to rule the galaxy and you can rot in here!”

 

Darth Vitiate is most displeased with that response. His voice is thick sarcasm.  “Oh, you are Revan all over again. He was as committed to the Republic that loathed him as you are to the First Order Empire which holds you in contempt.   Each of you full of zeal for ideals but not for those you pretend to love.”

 

“A new Revan is what you wanted, right?  You reap what you sow as well,” Kylo jeers.   “Be careful what you wish for, Sith.”

 

“You are making the greatest mistake of your life, Apprentice.  That Empire is nothing.”

 

“It’s all I have left!” Resentment drips from Kylo’s lips.  “You lured away my wife to danger.  The son I never met is likely dead as a result.  The Empire is all that remains.”

 

“For now.”

 

Kylo face hardens at this not-so-subtle threat.  “I will not set you free!  This is your punishment for betraying your trusting daughter!”   Kylo gulps back hot tears as he exclaims, “She believed in you!   All along I told her it was foolish, but she wanted so badly for you to be the father she always wanted and never had.” Rey had gone looking for a father in Han Solo and then in Luke Skywalker.  Either man would have been a better choice than Vitiate.  But Rey couldn’t see that.

 

Then, a thought occurs to Kylo. He lays down a challenge.  “This is your chance to make things right.  Prove your innocence by reviving her.”

 

The Sith Master shakes his head.  “I need your help.  I can revive her with Darkness but I need your Light to heal her.  There are no medical facilities here.”

 

“If you are as powerful as you say, then you can do both yourself.   You preached balance to me and then to Rey.  Well, practice what you preach.  Balance yourself!”  Kylo’s lip curls as he sneers, “If Darth Vader could find Light deep within him, then you can too.”

 

Vitiate looks rather humbled to admit to the limitations of his power.  “Do you not think that I have tried?  I cannot.”  The old adage is true in this case:  Those who can, do.  Those who can’t, teach.  That’s why Vitiate created the Skywalkers in the image of the one man he knew who had come close to balancing the Force.  Because Darth Vitiate himself cannot do it, and they both know why.  The ancient Emperor looks away and sighs ruefully as he confirms, “I am too Dark.”

 

“Then you belong here,” Kylo concludes bitterly.   

 

Mortis is a very effective prison, Kylo reflects.   The Jedi Grandmaster and the Sith Apprentice who devised this scenario knew what they were doing.   For all Vitiate’s enormous Dark power cannot help him escape.  And the Darker he gets, the farther he gets from freedom.  Moreover, even were a compassionate Jedi lured here to help out of pity, they too would be incapable of springing the Sith.  For unlike the stories in which only an innocent can claim the girl or the grail or whatever the elusive prize is, it takes a sinner to free this Dark god.  Because no Jedi pure in the Light will ever balance the Force. 

 

Kylo realizes now that the rigid religions of the Force were what kept Vitiate penned up.  For so long as the Force remained either Light or Dark, with no overlap, there was no one capable of helping him.  Kylo understands now why Vitiate had wanted Darth Vader to destroy the Sith as the Jedi Chosen One. He understands the true fear Snoke had of Luke Skywalker and the rise of the New Jedi Order.   Kylo seethes as he recalls his Master’s many long lectures.  Because for all the lofty talk of bringing an equilibrium to the universe and letting old things die, balancing the Force was always only about him.   All along Vitiate had an agenda, and it was himself.  And that is a very different agenda from Kylo’s.

 

In fact, Darth Vitiate now softly admits, “You are my last hope.”

 

“Balance yourself!” Kylo throws this parting shot over his shoulder as he strides for the shuttle ramp.  He is anxious to be gone.  He knows times passes differently here in Mortis than in the real world.  With his Empire in disarray, there is not a moment to lose.  Plus, Kylo knows if he lingers longer, he might cave to Vitiate on Rey.  That temptation is very real. 

 

The wily prisoner Sith is not giving up.  He calls out to sweeten the deal as Kylo literally flees before he can change his mind.  “I can teach you power you can only dream about!  There are no limits to what you can do with the Force.  We will be equals!  Think about.”

 

But Kylo keeps climbing up the ramp. He knows any deal he makes with this guy will have strings attached.  Kylo put away Vader’s mask almost two years ago, determined to be his own man.   He will not be beholden to Vitiate going forward.  The time for teaching has passed.   It’s time for action now.  He is the mighty Kylo Ren, and he’s going to save the galaxy from the breakaway hardline First Order fascists.  He owes that to his dead wife who once fought for the Resistance.   If Rey is watching now in the Force, Kylo hopes she understands.  He is not being stubborn, he is doing the right thing even though it will cost him his own happiness. 

 

 

END PART IV

 

More to come . . .

 


	50. Chapter 50 Story notes to part 4

Hello and thanks for reading.  Some brief notes on Part Four:

 

This story is heavily influenced by my Revan fic.  _Recalled to Life_ is not a great story.  Like _Red_ , it is a fic bursting with ideas that found their expression better elsewhere.  Still, the process of writing _Recalled to Life_ convinced me that Revan is an utterly fascinating character.  The more I learned about him, the more I wanted to write a version of Kylo that had Revan’s perspective.  For Kylo to be a man who wants to do the right thing, but is expedient about getting there.  A man who cares less about process than outcomes.  A man who seeks to tear down the orthodoxy around him because it impedes his goals and often yields the wrong results.  A man who combines and embodies both the best and worst of the Jedi and Sith traditions.  Revan was a mixed bag, like Kylo Ren.  Was he a flawed hero?  Or a villain with redeeming qualities?  It sort of depends on which part of Revan’s wide-ranging (somewhat preposterous) story you read.  I like to think that approach is a great way to view “redeeming” Kylo Ren.

 

As I’m sure I have written in story notes before, I’m not interested in redeeming Kylo in the ROTJ sense.  My view is that the sequel trilogy as its premise has moved past all that.  The idea that anyone is all Light or all Dark seems too simplistic.  Balance has to mean some mix of Light and Dark, some combination of Jedi and Sith.  What does redemption mean in that context?  My best answer is that Kylo becomes a leader like Revan, and not a leader like Luke Skywalker or Yoda.   Readers take note:  I won’t be writing any ‘Kylo turns to the Good Side’ fics.  And I refuse to write any ROTJ sacrificial endings with ‘Kylo dies saving Rey’ tropes that prove Kylo’s love to make the tween girl in all of us sigh with happiness.  It’s not that I don’t write happy endings, but that I envision a happy ending somewhat differently than the prevailing fairytale wish fulfillment conclusion some readers prefer.     

 

If I didn’t have it before, I probably have now earned a reputation for killing Rey.   I’ve done it in two other stories now.  But in the rest of my catalog, Rey always lives even when Kylo thinks she’s dead.  And even when she’s dead, she doesn’t always stay dead.   But look, main characters die in SW.  I’m not breaking any new ground.

 

There are some readers who cannot conceive of Reylo without Kylo having some doggedly determined, slightly Dark puppy love for Rey.  He must remain obsessed and devoted in all circumstances and plot lines.  He must be willing to surrender his life, his Empire, his Force or whatever to prove his love.  Real life and real love don’t work like that.  There are limits to what any partner will take from another.   Spousal love, no matter how deep, is often not the same unconditional love people show to children.  Kylo will accept Rey’s Dark temper tantrums and violence, but he has huge issues with her allegiance to her father.  She knows this before she leaves—it should come as no surprise—and it becomes a breaking point.  Kylo will tolerate a lot from Rey, but this goes too far.  And that’s an important lesson about love:  sometimes people you love will let you down.  Then, it’s up to you to decide how you deal with it.  Dark Kylo falls into the ‘if you’re not with me, you’re my enemy’ trap, naturally.

 

“How’s your wound?” is my favorite TLJ line after “It’s time for the Jedi to die.”  “How’s your wound?” is how a parent reacts when you see your kid did something dangerously stupid.  First, you’re all “is anyone hurt??” And then you’re all “what were you thinking/this is what happens when you don’t listen to mommy/how many times have I told you not to play on the stairs” etc.   Because once there’s no real damage to attend to, it’s time to vent how pissed off you are and metaphorically shoot Force lightning at your idiot kid making bad choices.  This line more than any other tells me that Snoke is far less of an abuser than many fans wish to believe.   As I have maintained in other story notes, victim/abuser is just one way to understand the Dark Master/Apprentice relationship, and it’s far too simplistic on its own.  Plus loaded labels like victim/abuser tend to end a discussion, rather than begin it.  If you’ve read any other blueenvelopes stories, you know I have a hard time with our current very judgy culture full of flashmob haters.  There is a rush to judgement mentality that tends to look at a single act or aspect of a person and decide that is their full measure.  We are more than our worst moments and our bad habits and regrettable missteps. 

 

I love it when Snoke gets thwarted.   That happens quite a bit in my stories   He’s not all-powerful and he loses now and then.  He takes risks that don’t pay off ( _Ghosts_ ) or his plots blow up in his face because the Force has other objectives ( _A New Hope_ ).  Here, all his Skywalker machinations and years of mentorship of Kylo come to nothing.   The Sith are gone, the Jedi have ended, he’s got an Apprentice capable of balancing the Force . . . and he’s still in jail. 

 

Why?  Well, first of all, Snoke misses the whole point of his prison stint.  Balancing the Force is not meant to be some unachievable hurdle that keeps him forever imprisoned.  Instead, it is the test of his rehabilitation.  Only once Snoke is Light enough to balance the Force is he fit to return to society.  But instead of spending his efforts reforming himself, Snoke spends his time scheming to get rescued.  So when Kylo tells Snoke to balance himself, Kylo is absolutely correct.  It’s one of those moments of accidental insight, he just doesn’t realize it.  But Snoke will.

 

The issues between Snoke and Kylo are as much personal animosity as they are a power play.  Kylo is terrified of his old Master’s abilities and suspicious of his motives.  Resentful too of the subtext to galactic history—Snoke’s stint in prison—that was kept secret from him.  But the former pawn Kylo now holds the trump card and he’s not about to let Snoke win.  Unfortunately, Rey’s life hangs in the balance. Rey has been the bridge between these characters for much of the story, and she’s the real loser here at the end of Part Four, not Snoke. 

 

Snoke didn’t plan Rey’s death, but he’s far too experienced of a player not to try to use it to his advantage.  When Kylo declines the resurrection offer, Snoke ends up offering Kylo power—it’s the classic Sith move—and that just confirms all of Kylo’s worst suspicions.  So, why ultimately is Snoke still stuck in jail?  It’s because Snoke has his Apprentice pegged all wrong.  Kylo is too much of an altruistic Skywalker at his core.   Too much of his mother and his uncle, even if he has a different political perspective on things.  Kylo is not about to risk the fate of the galaxy purely for his self-interest.  Even for his beloved, but estranged Rey. 

 

Note that granddaddy Darth Vader would absolutely have accepted Snoke’s bargain.   Anakin basically thought he accepted a version of that deal from duplicitous Sidious, only Sidious didn’t have the power he promised.  So, it turns out that Snoke made the right pitch to wrong Skywalker.  I couldn’t resist giving Snoke some Kenobi (Light) and Sidious (Dark) lines here at the end so I could give Kylo some Anakin flavor.  But ultimately, Kylo makes the opposite choice of his grandfather.  Kylo might revere and copy Vader in many things, but in this case he deviates quite starkly.

 

In my stories, Snoke is always the Dark conjurer of the Skywalker bloodline.  This fic fleshes out why.  In my other fics, the motive for creating Anakin Skywalker is power.  Snoke wants a pawn who can balance the Force because he wants to control it all—both the Light Side and the Dark Side.  Being just Dark isn’t good enough any longer.  Bored megalomaniac Snoke wants a new challenge. And that’s an okay explanation, but why would Snoke risk creating the Chosen Ones who might eclipse his own power?  I created an answer in this story’s elaborate backstory of imprisoned Snoke/Vitiate playing the long game as he plots to gain his freedom.   I love the idea of him being so powerful and yet so firmly stuck.  And, I love the idea of Snoke creating a work-around by learning to project himself out of his prison.  He just can’t stand being marginalized.  The man has to meddle and control. 

 

As always, I seek to explain, connect, and deepen the existing SW canon.  To create continuity and bridge plot lines and eras.  It all has to make coherent sense because in real life people do things for a reason.  And, the consequences of those choices need to be reasonable and have consequences of their own.  That’s what makes SW a saga.  Anyhow, a good villain needs a purpose for his evil deeds.  Note to Disney:  just making Snoke a power-hungry madman is sort of lazy.   Ultimately, it feels dissatisfying.

 

Sometimes, it can be very hard to help someone.   Kylo spends basically all of Parts One and Two attempting to help Rey.  She is very mistrustful at first for good reason.  Part Four has Vitiate attempting to help both Kylo and Rey.  This time, Kylo is very mistrustful for good reason.  It all blows up in his face by the ending.   And that’s because sometimes who tells you something is as important as what they tell you.  Hux tells Kylo the truth but he doesn’t recognize it as truth.  Rey does the same thing with similar results.   Kylo’s justifiable paranoia keeps him from accepting the truth.  But the thing about paranoia is that it feeds on itself.  The irony is that the coup Kylo worries about does indeed occur, but Hux is not the ringleader.  Similarly, Kylo rejects Rey because he fears she is a trap that Snoke has set for him.  But in the end, it is the intervention of others that brings Kylo to Snoke’s lair of his own volition.  

 

So, where are we now?  Kylo is going to return home to a well-organized, continuing revolt.  Rey and Hux are dead on Mortis where time (conveniently) stops.  Vitiate is still in prison angry and sad.  Baby Carl has a holochron and Rey’s sword with him in the World Between Worlds, but only dead Rey knows it.  Coming up:  Kylo’s Empire splits into a civil war with the hardcore First Order “Separatists.”  Snoke is not out of it yet.  He has more tricks up his sleeve.  And someone is going to show up with a baby they claim is Carl. 

 


	51. Chapter 51

Kylo returns to Coruscant to find his Empire rapidly crumbling.  His detour to spend what felt like ten minutes arguing with Vitiate ends up costing him three full weeks including travel time to and from the Unknown Regions.  During his conspicuous absence, all Hell breaks loose. 

 

General Jerard proclaims himself the true Supreme Leader of the true First Order, dismissing Kylo as the usurper assassin of Snoke.  He chooses a lousy Mid Rim world as the capital of his rogue state, the New Empire. Then he calls on his followers throughout the galaxy—whom he calls the true citizen soldier patriots of the First Order—to join him in overthrowing the current regime and spreading spontaneous mayhem.

 

So what’s Jerard’s big beef?   Well, once you cut through the many scathing critiques of Kylo’s leadership and personal background, Jerard wants to reform the Empire to be a more pure version of the original.  He deplores the current Imperial Senate and hates democracy in general.  Jerard would dispense with all elections and legislative bodies. He wants the military to implement all levels of civilian authority galaxy-wide.  That way, the cause of law and order will be ensured. 

 

For that was the stumbling block of original Empire according to General Jerard:  Emperor Palpatine permitted too much self-government and too much dissent.  It made people unhappy.   They had too many responsibilities and too many choices and it led them to rebel and to create the inept New Republic.  Palpatine got saddled with democracy as the legacy of the Old Republic.  But now that two Republics have fallen, it’s time to learn the lesson of history once and for all—democracy doesn’t work.  The failing of democracy is that it relies on people to make their own good decisions, Jerard argues.  And that is stressful and inefficient and sometimes doesn’t work out.   Better to let his military government tell people what to do.  That way, the people can focus on things that make them happy. 

 

Jerard has plenty of populist campaign-style promises to accompany his strongman pitch.  He offers a guaranteed livable income for families, affordable state-run housing and healthcare for all, and free public education in new military academies modeled off the stormtrooper training program.  Yes, under General Jerard there will be a chicken in every pot, only that chicken will be given to you by the government and then the government will tell you how to cook it and that you should enjoy it.  And if you don’t like it, you had better keep quiet.  Eat your chicken, Jerard and his goons holler incessantly, it’s good for you.

 

Kylo finds this pitch for a socialist autocracy somewhat befuddling.  Because who would sign up for that?   As far as Kylo can tell, Jerard’s appeal to his followers is mostly based on discontent with Kylo’s leadership and a sense that the military has been pushed aside and disrespected during peacetime.   Because in peacetime, elected officials and titans of industry make decisions and athletes, pod racers, and celebrities get all the press coverage.  But not anymore.  Now everyone knows General Jerard’s name and his brutal manifesto is all anyone is talking about. 

 

While the attack on the Palace failed miserably, the enemy’s initial victories elsewhere are impressive.  After a series of naval scuffles during which officers loyal to Kylo are subdued ship by ship, General Jerard gains control of the entire Mid Rim fleet.  It gives him a firm hold on the Mid Rim systems.   Jerard also has conspirators in command of land-based garrisons across the Outer Rim.  It allows the traitors easy access to key hyperspace lanes and gives them effective control over the most prosperous and populated Rim systems.   Kylo is left holding the Core worlds unopposed and relegated the crappiest, least desirable parts of the Rim.  

 

It happens so fast that everyone has whiplash.  In a matter of a month, the galaxy devolves once more into ‘us’ versus ‘them.’  First there were the Separatists and the Republic loyalists, then the Empire and the Rebellion, next the New Republic and the First Order, and now the Second Empire and the breakaway systems calling themselves the New Empire.  It’s the cycle of civil war begun anew, and that frustrates Kylo to no end.

 

He’s a longtime student of history.  He knows that every war is about competing visions of the future.  About who will decide things going forward and what those things will be.  But there is something especially ugly about a civil war.  Maybe it’s because both sides know each other well.  These conflicts are not abstract.  To the contrary, they are intensely personal.  The battlefield is also personal.   In a civil war, there is no enemy territory.  It’s all home turf.  The cities destroyed are your hometowns.  The earth you scorch is your own.  Worse still, all the casualties are your people.  And so, in the end there are no real winners.   Because even the victor loses.  

 

Civil wars also make great opportunities for treachery because the fight against the enemy you don’t recognize is a hard fight.   General Jerard publicly claims to have sleeper cells embedded throughout the regime.  That proves to be true when mid-battle mutinies take out several capital ships and garrisons.   But two can play at that game, Kylo decides.  He sends agents to ostensibly answer Jerard’s galaxy-wide call to arms.  And now, there are sleeper cells loyal to the regime in the traitors’ midst as well.  The spy games become intense.  There are informants with eyes and ears everywhere.

 

Ten minutes into the initial briefing to bring him up to speed, Kylo recognizes Jerard’s strategy for what it is.  Looking at his enemy’s choice of Rim systems and proximity to specific hyperspace lanes, it’s obvious. Kylo blurts it out loud:  “He’s going for the weapon.”   That realization prompts a few exhaled curses around the table as others quickly perceive the wisdom of his insight.

 

The weapon is, of course, the new Death Star.  Nicknamed ‘Sithkiller Base’ by those in the know about why the project was begun in the first place, Death Star IV will be born on the edge of the Outer Rim, like all its predecessors.  That placement is both a strategic ploy for semi-secrecy and a practical decision for easy access to raw materials mined cheaply from neighboring systems.  Currently, the weapon is only half-built and at least nine months from being even partially operational.   To finish it, Jerard will need the weapon itself, the manpower and expertise to build and maintain it, and the necessary construction materials and equipment.  But if he can score that trifecta, it’s a game changer. 

 

As Kylo walks through the risk, there are more exhaled curses from his grim-faced commanders.  They know as well as he does that the traitors could take out Coruscant with the finished weapon in a reprise of Snoke’s destruction of Hosnia.   General Jerard’s revolt could become a revolution fast if that happens.  And so, Kylo deploys his resources in a defensive strategy in the Rim.  The locus of the fighting quickly shifts to far-flung alien worlds whose names no one can correctly pronounce.

 

But while Jerard’s military moves are mostly on the edge of the galaxy, his political ploy to spread terror hits close to home.  Many of the First Order secret police stationed in the Core worlds are natural sympathizers to Jerard’s extreme law and order cause.  They run raids dragging Senators, other prominent regime officials, and civilian supporters from their homes for on-the-spot executions.   The grisly crimes are streamed live over the holonet.   The format is always the same.  A gang of thugs wearing black hoods surrounds their victim.  Someone reads aloud the same short speech that accompanied Hux’s execution.  The unlucky captive is then condemned in the name of Supreme Leader Jerard for their collaboration with Kylo Ren.  Next, they are murdered before their screaming families for maximum ghoulish effect. All the while, the thugs flash the First Order salute and pledge allegiance to the one true successor to Snoke, Leader Jerard.  For Kylo Ren, the secret Skywalker usurper of their movement, has betrayed its values and sold out to the Republic.

 

The murders are a very effective tactic to spread fear.  And they are completely fitting with pedantic General Jerard’s embrace of the old Imperial stalwart Wilhulf Tarkin’s doctrine of rule by fear.  Fear will keep the local systems in line, Moff Tarkin had argued.  Fear of the Imperial secret police.   Fear of the original Death Star.  Fear of a return to the all-out civil war that precipitated Palpatine’s rise to power in the first place.   The Clone Wars were never far from anyone’s memory during the Old Empire years, Kylo knows. 

 

And well, the Tarkin Doctrine made some sense in that historical context, Kylo will admit.  But it had real limitations.  Namely, the Rebellion.  But raised as a scion of exiled Imperial elites, Bin-Salman Jerard has a blind spot to all that.  Kylo Ren, raised a Jedi padawan to Rebellion hero parents, does not.  This, Kylo decides sourly, is why history repeats itself.  Because arrogant assholes like General Jerard think they will not get caught up in fate’s trap. 

 

Take that crap off the holonet, Kylo’s PR chief orders when the latest execution video goes viral.  But Kylo countermands him.  No, let those holovids stand.  Let the people see the brutality of the traitors.  No one will flock to their cause.  That’s not the point, his PR chief argues back hotly.  Keeping that footage up promotes their goal of fear.   I’m counting on that, Kylo nods solemnly.  Because he knows what others do not.  That fear leads to anger, and anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. Only this time, the suffering will be by Jerard and his breakaway band of zealots.  Because Kylo fully intends to unload the awesome power of the Dark Side on his enemies every chance he gets.

 

It’s all part of a cold-eyed assessment of his situation.  Kylo decides he needs to rally the Core.  This is the bright center of the universe, the mostly human worlds that are home to the richest, most educated, most democratic leaning populations. They have long looked askance at his leadership, although prior to the revolt his poll numbers had been rising thanks to some civil liberty reforms.  Time to double down on those positions and use the enemy’s message of fear against them.   Because if you thought Leader Ren was bad, wait until you meet Leader Jerard. 

 

Suddenly, Kylo is looking a lot more acceptable to many citizens.   Because Kylo Ren had a Senate that was moving in baby steps toward legitimate democracy before the revolt.  Because Kylo Ren tolerated a fair amount of public dissent and he even keeps his enemy propaganda on the holonet in a nod to free speech.   Because Kylo Ren managed to get the galactic economy booming in just a few short years.  So many citizens decide that, all in all, things were off to a good start in the Second Empire.  Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was heading in the right direction.  And it looks a whole lot better than the future that maniac General Jerard and his military junta envision. 

 

After the very public attack on the Palace and his initial unexplained absence, there are persistent holonet rumors that Kylo Ren is dead.  As the enemy racks up victories, those rumors gain steam.  So, Kylo decides that he must appear in public alive and in charge doing something important.   He orders his Palace spokesman to call a press conference.  Then, his spokesman surprises everyone when he cedes the podium to Supreme Leader Ren himself. 

 

“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Kylo drawls as he steps up to adjust the microphone to his height.  Then, to preempt any naysayers who might argue that he could be anyone in the uniform and mask, Kylo yanks off his helmet and plunks it down heavily on the rostrum.  He smirks directly into the camera.  As everyone absorbs his long rumored, but always publicly concealed face, Kylo casually opens his palm and calls a water bottle to him with the Force. It’s a silent confirmation that yeah, he’s the real fucking deal.  This is no actor set up to play a part.

 

The room goes silent with shock and anticipation. 

 

And now, Kylo starts channeling his teleprompter smooth Senator mother as best he can.  He launches into a twenty-minute public address that is the longest speech of his life.  It’s both a message of hope and vengeance, an address to his besieged citizens and a warning to his enemies.  Kylo cloaks himself in the language and values of the Republic-leaning Core worlds while he simultaneously promises the lethal ruthlessness of the Old Empire.  Because Kylo Ren is no fool.  He knows he can’t take the high road militarily and win.  He has to respond in kind by using tactics Jerard himself would use.   And given the holonet footage of the enemy’s casual brutality, no one is going to quibble with Kylo for being too harsh.

 

In another unexpected move, Kylo starts taking questions from the press.  He schools himself to remain unflappable.  That will do more to put Jerard’s allegations of his emotional instability to rest than any words will, Kylo thinks.  But seeing his face has clearly thrown everyone for a loop.  So much so that it becomes the very first question.

 

_Mr. Leader, Sir, aren't you concerned that revealing your identity will endanger you?_

 

Kylo’s response and expression are sardonic. "The traitors already know what I look like.  I figured the rest of the galaxy should know as well."   Immediately, that comment becomes the day’s fastest trending holonet meme.

  

_Leader, what can you tell us about the state of the galaxy?_

 

That’s the obvious question. And it’s a hard one.  But rather than publicly admit that things are crumbling, Kylo makes a blunt but positive statement. "The galaxy is at war. It's a war I plan to win."

 

_Can we get more specifics?_

 

“No.  We will not reveal our strategies and positions publicly.”

 

A voice from the back of the room now hollers out.  _Leader, can you comment on the recent assassinations of General Hux and of your other supporters?_

 

Now’s his chance for righteous indignation.  Kylo is plenty pissed on this topic.  "I condemn those acts and I will avenge our dead.   The traitors showed up at my Palace to try to kill me.  They didn't succeed.  So instead now they pull other people out of their homes to shoot them.   The traitors represent the worst of the First Order, and I refuse to let them drag the galaxy down to their level."  Kylo’s expression is especially grim now.  “Chancellor Armitage Hux was a war hero who died attempting to save others.  I appreciate his bravery.”   Kylo omits any public acknowledgment of Rey’s death.  He can’t afford to look weak and weepy right now.  With the determination that got him through the worst parts of Snoke’s Dark training, Kylo wills himself to keep it together and soldier on day in, day out.

 

_But, Sir, you yourself were known to employ secret police and death squads._

 

It’s true.  Kylo nods. "I don't claim to be a saint.  But my violence always a purpose.  It's not lurid slaughter choreographed to maximize holonet clicks."   He scowls openly now.  Kylo has worn a mask for years, so he never learned a poker face.  His every emotion shows on his face.  That makes him utterly sincere.  “The First Order stands for peace, justice, law, and order,” he proclaims quietly.  “For a safe and secure society in which all have opportunity to prosper.  Murderous gangs of traitors do not reflect our values.”

 

_Leader, what are you doing to ensure the safety of the major hyperspace lanes?  Trade and travel have ground to a halt in some systems as a result of fears that the militants will fire on civilians or confiscate cargoes.  Sir, with the complete lack of reliable official information, rumors have people scared._

 

No one is more scared than he is, Kylo thinks privately.  But he can’t show it.  He just gives simple, practical advice.  “It’s a war.  It’s dangerous.  Stay out of the Mid Rim and the Outer Rim if you want to be safe.  Conduct your business elsewhere.” 

 

_And what if you live in those areas?_

 

“Get out if you can.  If not, lay low and be patient.  We will be coming to help you.”  Kylo tries to look as confident as he can as he reassures everyone, “This situation is temporary.  We will soon regain control.”  But his lack of specifics and a timetable do not escape anyone’s notice.  Neither does his refusal to say the traitor general’s name out loud.

 

_When can we expect to get more information?_

 

“There will be a military briefing in the coming days,” Kylo improvises.  Then he outright fibs, “We are committed to transparency, but only when prudent.  We will not share information that might compromise our objectives.”  And damn, that sounded like doublespeak Hux might prattle off.  Where is that guy when he needs him?  This off-the-cuff press stuff is harder than it looks.  If you’re not careful, you end up saying bullshit like that.

 

Some alien woman in the front row now has the courage to broach a touchy subject. _Sir, General Jerard has been repeating rumors that Leader Snoke was not killed by the Resistance cruiser’s hyperspace jump at Crait, but was instead assassinated. Is it true you killed Leader Snoke?_

 

"No."  It's technically the truth. “I did not kill Snoke.   No one in the First Order killed Snoke.”  That’s technically the truth, too.

 

Kylo takes questions for another ten minutes.  Then, he grabs his helmet and stalks back to work.  The whole episode begins a creeping effort to recast Kylo in the public perception.  He is less the mysterious masked madman and more the gruff, blunt leader.  He’s no politician with flowery words and canned phrases about thoughts and prayers and pulling together in a time of crisis.  Kylo, a man long whispered to be emotionally erratic, turns out to be a leader not inclined towards public empathy and handwringing.   He reveals scant information and he says what little he says succinctly.  But it’s his authentic self, and that comes through.  Whether he’s saying he plans to avenge the fallen or denying he killed Snoke, Kylo’s sincerity resonates. 

 

Seizing on the opportunity, his PR guys convince Kylo to tape five-minute messages to his Empire that get released weekly on the holonet.  It’s mostly Kylo being Kylo.  He’s pissed, sullenly angry, and determined to win.  That posture turns out to perfectly reflect the mood of his citizens.  Because things were going pretty well until General Jerard messed things up.  And that’s the message Kylo’s regime keeps hammering home:  that this is a selfish power play by a disgruntled sidelined general who is spoiling things for everyone.  This is more about personal ambition than ideology, his official spokesman contends.  Jerard is a control freak who wants to micromanage your life. 

 

But unfortunately, while Kylo wins the war of words, he keeps losing the actual battles.   The repeated losses are costly in terms of men, ships, and arms.   The Mid Rim remains firmly in enemy hands despite efforts to dislodge them.  As the weeks turn into months, the enemy’s foothold in the Outer Rim steadily grows.  One by one, more Rim systems fall.  At the four-month mark, Jerard has conquered all the major supply worlds for the Death Star project, forcing Kylo to halt construction.   Then, in a devastating defeat, the regime loses control of the half-built weapon itself.  Frustrated Kylo takes his sword to a wall before witnesses to vent his bitter frustration at that bad news. 

 

In the midst of this nightmare scenario, Kylo grieves.  He tries hard not to think of Rey and the baby. They are lost to him and nothing will change that.  Kylo blames himself, he blames Vitiate, and he blames Jerard.   He keeps hoping that Rey will haunt him in the Force, but she never does.  Still, Kylo likes to believe that she is watching over him and rooting for him.  Because no matter their political and personal differences, Rey would be on his side in this fight.  Rey would abhor the actions of Jerard and his followers.

 

But things keep getting worse.  Kylo’s chief of staff who had gone on the Naboo mission pulls him out of a meeting one morning.  What is it?  Kylo complains testily.  His lead staffer makes him watch an untraceable com message received from the enemy.   It’s General Jerard himself appearing on camera.  His foe is a weaselly looking guy deep into middle age.  Slight of stature with thinning dark hair combed over, the beginnings of a paunch, and a very affected looking patch mustache.   General Jerard is not as smart as he thinks he is, but he’s smart enough.  And he has daring to spare.  Though he doesn’t have the Force, he is a formidable adversary.

 

The traitor general gets right to the point in his message.  We killed that Senator you called a wife who Hux had hidden on Naboo.  We have her kid.  Or so they claim.  Kylo can have the baby back if he comes alone to meet up at a deep space rendezvous point in the Mid Rim.  The baby will be delivered unharmed.  But if Kylo doesn’t show, the baby dies.  We’ll launch him out the airlock and he can float forever in your doomed Empire, the traitor general gloats. We’ll put it on the holonet for you to see, he promises.  Because truly, Bin-Salman Jerard is a nasty guy.

 

What should we do?  Kylo’s hovering chief of staff is looking for guidance.  But Kylo just waves the man away silently.  Then, he broods.  How does he handle this?  Kylo is not about to walk knowingly into an ambush.  But what if they really have his kid?  Uncertain how to proceed, Kylo’s first response is to stall. He demands proof of life in the form of a blood sample and a picture.

 

To his great relief, the traitors do not respond.  That’s an admission in itself, Kylo decides.  Because if they had the information, they would provide it.  It gets Kylo off the hook for his dilemma.  He can in good conscience ignore the deadline his enemy has imposed.  The comfort this brings his troubled soul is enormous.  

 

But at the last minute, the enemy delivers a grainy dark photograph of a generic-looking baby wrapped up in blankets.  Kylo has no way of knowing if that is his son.  Along with the picture comes an extension of the deadline, an explanation that the proof of life was delayed due to the difficulties of smuggling it into Coruscant, and a vial of blood.  

 

Fuck.   What now??   Kylo gulps back his panic. 

 

The initial tests on the blood sample are inconclusive, but they show plenty of DNA markers for him.   It could be his kid, the experts tell him, if this blood is actually from the child.  But we have no way of confirming that it is.  The blood sample could be faked, his scientists tell him.  It’s possible that they got a hold of something you touched and they reverse engineered a fake sample from it.  The only way to know for sure is to get a sample from the mother.  If this is you and your wife’s kid, the child will show DNA markers from you both.  But I wear a mask and gloves in public, Kylo points out.  I rarely touch anything someone could easily find.  You’re not wearing the mask and gloves now, the lead scientist observes.  And that point is well taken. 

 

Unfortunately, Kylo has nothing left of Rey’s personal items after all this time.  And he doesn’t know where she hid on Naboo. But Vitiate does. And Vitiate presumably still has her body, which means Kylo could actually get a real sample of Rey’s DNA to analyze.  But to do so requires a return trip to Zakuul.  That will cost him time he doesn’t have.  Plus, he will be leaving his Empire leaderless during wartime for at least the few days’ time that even five minutes in the realm of Mortis equates to. 

 

But still . . .   Kylo’s conscience nags at him.   This isn’t the same as bargaining for Rey’s life in exchange for unleashing the ultimate evil on the galaxy.  This is just confirming whether the captive kid is in fact his son.  But if so, what then?   Does it even matter?  Part of Kylo worries that it might make things worse to learn the truth of the baby’s parentage.   Because there is no way Kylo is showing up at the proposed rendezvous point to have his ship blasted to dust.  And so, there is a high likelihood that this baby will die in any event.  And that just compounds the sin of abandoning his son in the first place.

 

Heartsick Kylo decides to let the traitors decide how to proceed.  His team boldly asks for another longer extension of the deadline.  In a surprise move, the traitors grant it.  Perhaps they realize that their ploy is working.  And now, Kylo feels as though he has to go to Mortis.  Because he worries he will be unable to live with himself if he fails to uncover the truth of the situation and at least attempt to find a solution.  

 

So, he heads for Mortis.  Ostensibly, the trip is a covert mission to rally the troops at the heart of the Rim war zone.  But after a few cursory visits to command vessels and garrisons, Kylo’s shuttle makes an unplanned hyperspace jump to the Zakuul system.  Kylo is busy psyching himself up for the stress of seeing Rey dead again and the prospect of yet another ugly confrontation with Vitiate, when his craft exits into planetary orbit.  Boss, his pilot calls over the intercom, you need to see this.  Kylo heads for the cockpit to discover that the giant metal space station cage for Darth Vitiate has gone missing.  

 

He is being denied admission to Mortis.

 

It tells him the Force is not with him in this.   Still, Kylo is crushed.   He came here for answers, but those answers are being denied.  Is this the Force saving him from making a terrible mistake?  Or is this evidence that the Force has dumped him and chosen a different favorite in Jerard?

 

Kylo doesn’t know.  It’s all so dispiriting.  His wife is dead, his son is lost, the galaxy is falling apart, and his enemies are winning.  How did he end up here?  How had it all gone so wrong?  Kylo has never felt more alone and desperate.  He needs good advice and a pep talk.   So, on an impulsive whim, he orders his pilot to jump to Mustafar.  Maybe a few minutes in meditation with his grandfather’s mask will encourage him.  For if anyone can understand losing your family and struggling to keep your Empire together, it’s Darth Vader.  

 

Just the sight of the Hellish lava world Mustafar is comforting.  Watching his shuttle’s approach from the cockpit, Kylo relishes the upcoming privacy. This system has long had a series of shield gates and checkpoints.  No one has ever attempted to thwart those defenses.  There is nothing here on Mustafar of strategic or monetary value to bring anyone snooping.  And so, this inhospitable planet persists quietly off the grid.  Really, Mustafar is the perfect place to lick your wounds and nurse your hurts away from prying eyes and the nosy press.  At first, Kylo had been puzzled by the bitter irony of his burned grandfather’s home on the banks of a lava river.  But in maturity, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren understands exactly why Lord Vader chose it. 

 

The circumstances of this particular homecoming are bleak.  Preoccupied Kylo just wants to be alone for a few moments.  He orders his crew to remain onboard his idling shuttle.  Then, he heads down the ramp into the blast furnace heat towards his ancestral castle.  

 

Had Lord Vader ever arrived home beleaguered in near defeat?

 

Had his fearsome grandfather ever worried he made the wrong decision?

 

Had Anakin Skywalker ever feared that the Force had forsaken him?

 

For the umpteenth time, Kylo wishes he knew the man who called this castle home.  For if there is one family member who might understand and guide him through his current troubles, it would be his grandfather.  Lord Vader knew defeat.  As his Empire was founded, Anakin Skywalker lost his family and his health.  But he battled back to spend twenty-five more years as Darth Sidious’ chief enforcer.   Like Rey, Lord Vader had been a survivor.  Against all odds and at great cost, his grandfather had stayed in the game long after lesser men would have quit.  It makes Kylo admire him even more.

 

Does he have Lord Vader’s grit to persevere?  Kylo is uncertain.  Truthfully, all he can perceive now are his many failures.  He once had it all.  The girl, the galaxy, and the Force.  But it’s slipping away fast.  Kylo fears his epic crash and burn will make him a laughingstock.  He’ll be the one who lost it all in spectacular fashion and record time. His name will be a byword for hubris and a footnote in history.  The rise of this Skywalker will be far less noteworthy than his fall.

 

His eyes are stinging now from a mix of sweat and tears.   With his head down, Kylo opens the doors of the Dark stronghold with a wave of his hand.  He trudges into the main reception room without looking up.  That surprises a man lounging in a chair staring out the giant panoramic windows at the lava river.  

 

The uninvited guest startles.  “Ren!”

 

Kylo jumps too.   Instinctively, he grabs for his weapon.

 

“Ren!”  It’s Armitage Hux looking painfully thin and paler than usual, but alive.  Shockingly . . . amazingly . . . alive.  

 

Kylo chokes.  “Fuck,” he curses under his breath.  The last time he saw Hux, the guy had a gaping hole through his chest.  He was dead.  Very, very dead.  “Fuuuuuck,” Kylo curses again.  As he stares bleakly at his old nemesis, realization dawns.  His list of problems just got longer.  

 

Army Hux is struggling to his feet with the help of a cane.  It’s an awkward, stiff motion that makes the resurrected Chancellor wince with pain.  Death, apparently, has left its mark.

 

Watching this, Kylo swallows hard.  “He’s out,” he concludes softly. 

 

Hux nods.  “He’s out.”

 

 

 


	52. Chapter 52

“He’s out,” Kylo breathes, half in disbelief.

 

Hux nods slowly and confirms, “He’s out.”

 

“FUCK!” the vehement curse escapes Kylo automatically.  Because this is not good news.  The one thing Kylo had going for him was that Vitiate was still in his prison, limited to what he could do as a Force projection.  And, admittedly, that’s quite a lot.  But still . . . it was something.  But now the ridiculously over-powered Sith Emperor is loose in the galaxy and he appears to have made conquering Mustafar Castle his first move.  Kylo swallows hard. 

 

“Is he here?” he chokes out.  Kylo can feel his adrenaline already surging in anticipation of a fight.

 

But not today, it seems.  Hux answers, “No.  He left four days ago to see some specialist at the medical college on Corellia.  Probably to kidnap him—“

 

Whatever.   Super relieved, but now super impatient Kylo interrupts with the burning question he needs to know, “Where’s Rey?” 

 

“Downstairs in the medical wing.”

 

That’s all Kylo needs to hear.   He strides from the room pushing past a very startled looking woman in medical scrubs as Hux yells out weakly in his wake, “Wait—Ren, you don’t want to see—“

 

Kylo rounds a corner, jumps in the elevator, and zombie Hux is instantly forgotten. 

 

Lord Vader’s castle was built as one-part personal retreat and Sith man-cave, and one-part rehabilitation facility.  From the amount of square footage allocated to medical care alone, it is clear that keeping his grandfather alive and fully functioning was an ongoing effort.  The man even had his own personal operating room.  Marching into the decades empty but now apparently fully staffed medical wing, it occurs to Kylo that this is the perfect place for Vitiate to bring Hux and Rey.  For few places are as private as Mustafar Castle and yet so perfectly suited to the task of convalescence. 

 

Kylo keeps passing droid and sentient medics.  Everyone does a double take as he stomps through, looking thoroughly recognizable in his uniform even without his mask.  Ignoring their looks, Kylo pokes his head into every room as he goes, seeing bacta baths, exam tables, and lots of equipment he can’t identify.  Frustrated, he grabs a guy in a white coat in the hallway by the throat and growls, “Where is she?” in his best don’t-fuck-with-me-I’m-Kylo-Ren tone.

 

“Huh?” the man yelps.

 

“Rey!   Your patient!”  Kylo tightens his grip.  “Where is she?”

 

The man quickly nods and points.  “End of the hall on the right.”

 

Kylo releases the man and stalks off.  He finds the appointed room dark.  It looks like there is a privacy curtain pulled across half the small chamber.  Does that mean Rey is asleep?  Well, if so, it’s time to wake up.  He needs to see her.  To talk to her.  There’s so much he wants to say.  And maybe she can help him determine if the baby in the picture is Carl.  So, with a wave of his hand, Kylo turns on the lights.  “Rey?  Are you awake?” he calls softly as he reaches to pull back the curtain. 

 

What he sees behind the curtain stops him in his tracks.  This room is full of complicated looking medical equipment like all the rest.  But in the center behind the curtain lying horizontal is a large cylindrical bacta tank.  Rey’s body lies in repose inside the liquid coffin. 

 

Vitiate has not brought her back to life.    

 

Rey’s hair wafts and flutters slightly as the sticky healing fluid circulates around her.   It is a soft, lifelike movement against the backdrop of her perfectly still body. Rey is clothed in what look to be bandages.  They cover her torso wounds and provide modesty.  The rest of her skin is a pale grey white that looks nothing like her usual vibrant complexion.  It underscores the horrible fact that she is dead. 

 

Does Vitiate not have enough power left to revive Rey now that he has balanced the Force?  Did he forfeit too much of his Darkness in order to break himself out of prison?   Was there not enough left for Rey’s Sith resurrection?

 

Or is Vitiate refusing to revive his own daughter out of spite for Kylo?  Is Rey still dead as payback for Kylo’s refusal to free him? 

 

There is nothing gruesome here to behold, and yet Kylo instinctively turns away.  He cannot face this.  It’s too much.  He walked into this castle already feeling hopeless.  And that was before the news that Vitiate had freed himself.  And now, the disappointment of finding Rey dead but Hux alive crushes him.    Kylo is undone.  He is a man who has killed both casually and deliberately.  He long ago lost count of his carnage.  Rey is one of countless deaths that he has caused. But she is his personal tragedy, and that makes it different.

 

His hopes are dashed and his sense of guilt is overwhelming.

 

He cannot look at her, and yet he cannot look away.   And so, after a few seconds of gulping down quick breaths, Kylo turns back and steps closer.  He stands there with his palm against the cold tank glass.   Wishing with all his heart that things were different.  But there are some mistakes that you just have to live with. 

 

“Oh, Rey, I’m sorry.”  Truer words were never said.  For Kylo is the most sorry man alive right now.  He’s sorry he ever dragged Rey off Dantooine.  Sorry he pushed a relationship on her.  Sorry he wasn’t a better teacher of the Force when she was awakened to the Dark Side suddenly.  Sorry that he didn’t take her back with open arms when she returned from Mortis.  Sorry that he ever divorced her and disowned their child.  Sorry that he refused her overture to reconcile.  He should never have let her languish alone on Naboo.  And he should never have refused Vitiate’s offer to resurrect her.  He thought he was doing the right thing, but that sacrifice was in vain.  Because the wily old Sith Emperor freed himself anyway.  And now, Kylo has nothing to bargain with to Vitiate.  He’s at his father-in-law’s mercy now, he suspects.  And if the galaxy he thought he was saving is not lost to Vitiate, it will probably be lost to Jerard and his thugs in a few months.

 

Yes, he truly will lose everything, Kylo realizes as he begins to sob.  He gives free vent to his emotions as he splays both his hands on the cold hard tank glass.   This is the pain he has kept bottled up for months now overflowing uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried.  For though he is a superhuman demigod Chosen One, Kylo Ren is a man first and foremost.  All the might of his Empire and all the power of his Force cannot insulate him from loss.  This is the curse of his clan:  he is a Skywalker and that means he hurts those he should love the most.  For if there is one consistent defining emotion of his family whether Light Side or Dark Side, it is regret.

 

“Rey, I’m sorry . . .”  She can’t hear him, but he can’t say it enough.   He’s babbling now as he promises his dead wife that he will do whatever he can to find their missing son.  He will bring the boy’s kidnappers to justice and he will avenge her death.  It won’t make up for his mistakes, but it is something at least.  He’s begging Rey to watch over him in the Force when a medic wanders into the room and is surprised by Kylo as an uninvited visitor.

 

“Oh!”

 

Startled Kylo yanks back his hands and whirls.

 

The newcomer clearly knows who Kylo is because he nods respectfully as he stammers, “He s-said you might come.”  In this context, the ‘he’ needs no explanation.

 

Humiliated to be discovered so vulnerable, Kylo can feel his face flame.  He reaches up to not-so-furtively wipe at his eyes and cheeks. 

 

The man discretely ignores this as he reaches to dim the lights. “Darkness helps to forestall the natural decay,” he explains in a clinical abstract way.   As though Rey were some lab specimen and not a person.  Kylo is offended but this man of science is oblivious.  He keeps volunteering information as he checks the readouts on some equipment.  “It’s like I thought.  Looks like we’ll need to change out the bacta again tomorrow.”

 

“What’s the hold up?” Kylo growls.  “Why is she still dead?”

 

“That’s a question for Lord Vitiate,” the medic punts.  “He says his daughter is a more difficult case than the Chancellor.”  The man considers his patient with sympathy. “Such a shame.   She was so young.  Leader, Sir,” the man adds with awkward sincerity, “we are all very sorry for your loss.”

 

Kylo nods brusquely and exits the room.  He’s seen and heard enough. 

 

Hux is still in the lounge area when Kylo wanders back up.  The Chancellor is on his feet now.  The woman in scrubs who Kylo had surprised earlier is walking Hux slowly and painfully around the room with a cane.  The patient stops at his arrival and sizes up Kylo’s red eyes and forlorn expression.

 

“He hasn’t given up yet.”

 

Kylo just looks away.  What he saw downstairs is not very encouraging.

 

But Hux repeats his words.  “He hasn’t given up yet.  He’s sort of obsessed, to tell the truth.   Rey meant a lot to him.   He is very upset at her death.”

 

Yeah, me too, Kylo thinks silently.   Me too.

 

Hux slants him a warning glance now.  “He blames you.“

 

Kylo nods and says nothing to Hux’s own unspoken accusation.   Instead, he barks, “Sit down.  You’re making me nervous swaying like that.  And you there,” he scowls at Hux’s rehabilitation nurse, “you are dismissed.”  Kylo intends to have a conversation with his Chancellor and he doesn’t want an audience.

 

The woman disappears fast.  Then Hux half sits, half falls into a nearby chair as Kylo prompts him, “Go on.”

 

Hux reports like the good soldier he is.  “He loves her.  It’s more than just that Rey is his daughter.  Apparently, he made her in the image of his dead girlfriend and so Rey’s death is bringing up all sorts of old angst.  It’s kind of cringeworthy at times.”  Hux being Hux, he can’t resist a zinger.  “You space wizard types can be very sappy.”

 

Kylo ignores the comment.  “How did he get out?”

 

But Hux is still musing over Vitiate’s love life.  “He’s still traumatized over his dead girlfriend from four thousand years ago.  The guy slaughters billions, maybe trillions, in his lifetime.  His kill count is epic.  But he still can’t get over the girlfriend he killed.   As far as I can tell, she and Rey are the only deaths that he cares about.”

 

“How did he get out?” Kylo snarls impatiently. 

 

Hux shrugs. “You told him how to get out.”

 

“What?” Kylo isn’t following.

 

“You reminded him that Lord Vader could find the Light.  I guess that is what counts as a challenge among your type.  Lord Vitiate found the Light too, whatever that means.   I never could follow your magic Force mumbo jumbo,” Hux sneers dismissively.  He’s bone thin, paler than ever, and exceeding frail looking.   But Hux’s contemptuous attitude appears unharmed by his recent death stint. 

 

So this is his fault?   Kylo is thoroughly dissatisfied with that answer. “What are you saying?”

 

“It was Rey and the dead girlfriend that did it.   I guess if Vader could find the Light through love for his rebel son, then Vitiate could find the Light through love for his dead daughter and girlfriend.  And that love helped him find balance.  At least for long enough to get out.”

 

Kylo scowls and looks away.  “Fuck.”

 

Hux smiles nastily at his consternation.  “I think there was extra motivation to spite you.  Whatever you told him, it sure pissed him off.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“He’s got no love for you right now,” Hux summarizes.  “Ren, you had better leave before he gets back.”

 

Hell no.  “This is my castle. This is my castle and I’m not leaving.”  Kylo’s eyes find Hux again and he adds, “And those are my pajamas.”

 

That petulant comment makes Hux chuckle and that chuckle makes him cough.  It’s a moment before his wheezing Chancellor can speak again.   But Hux, as always, is never at a loss for words.  “I’d be wearing your slippers too if they fit.  You’ve got enormous feet, Ren.”

 

Whatever.  Kylo stomps over to plop down in the chair opposite his ailing Chancellor and frowns.

 

He eyes Hux in silence.

 

Hux eyes him back.

 

“Well, how are you?” Kylo demands stiffly, adding “You look awful,” lest he look too concerned.  Weirdly enough, Hux feels like the closest thing he has to a friend right now.   Not that they were ever friends.  They were more like enemies who had grown comfortable being allies. 

 

The question rubs Hux the wrong way.  “How do you think I am?   I was dead.  I’ve got a mechanical heart and semi mechanical lungs and have a dozen other electronics in my body keeping me alive.  I’m General Grievous now,” Hux gripes.

 

“No, you're not,” Kylo corrects him. “You’re the opposite of Grievous.  Grievous had his real heart and lungs.”

 

“Don’t be pedantic,” his sometime rival retorts. “You get the point.  I’m more machine now than man.”

 

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Kylo observes.  “So . . .  what was it like to be dead?” He’s curious. 

 

Hux looks uncomfortable with the topic. “I don’t know.  I can’t remember.  But being alive right now is rather painful.”

 

“What do you remember about that night?”  Kylo wants to know what happened on Naboo.  “Thank you for trying to help Rey,” he adds.   “That was brave of you.”

 

Hux is clearly saddened by Rey’s passing. “Yeah, well, it didn’t work out,” he says quietly, blinking fast as he looks away.  “We tried our best . . . there were too many of them . . .“

 

Seeing that grief makes Kylo’s own grief rise to the forefront now too.  It’s always a constant these days, right below the surface.  And the wrong word or a random memory can bring it up unexpectedly.  But that episode with Rey in the bacta tank downstairs has it especially fresh.  And now, Kylo too is blinking fast as he averts his gaze.  Another wave of sobs threatens but Kylo swallows it down.  “Tell me about the kid,” he chokes out to prod for the information he desperately needs.

 

“He was alive when I died,” is all Hux offers up.

 

“What does he look like?”

 

“Like a baby.”

 

“Can you be more specific?  Eyes, hair, skin,” Kylo prompts.

 

“It was dark and he was wrapped in a blanket.”

 

“Tell me more,” Kylo growls impatiently. 

 

Hux shoots him a cold look. “He was screaming and whining a lot.  Evidently, he has your winning personality.”

 

Kylo is sorely tempted to omit the questioning and just read Hux’s mind for information.  But given the looks of him, Hux might not survive it.  So with a sigh, Kylo reveals, “Jerard’s guys claim to have him.”

 

Hux’s sharp blue eyes find his as he warns, “It’s a trap.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Make them send a blood sample so you can test the DNA.”

 

“We have one.  It’s inconclusive.  He might be my kid.  We’re not sure.”

 

“Then you have to presume he is your kid,” Hux assesses the situation simply.

 

Kylo nods.  Hux is right.  Plus, he just promised Rey he would do what it takes to get their boy back.

 

“What else does Jerard have?” Hux asks.  “I know the holonet war reports are your propaganda. How bad is it?”

 

Kylo tells the truth.  “The traitors have control of the Mid Rim and about half of the Outer Rim systems by number.   But it’s all the strategic ones.”

 

The pained look with which Hux receives this information pretty much says it all.   “What about the new weapon under construction?”  As always, his former rival’s strategic mind cuts through to what matters most.  Hux might be a prissy asshole, but he’s a smart guy nonetheless.

 

“They have the weapon as of two weeks ago.”  That sounds defensive so Kylo quickly adds, “But it’s still unfinished.  We’re working on a plan to get it back.  Or to at least disrupt the construction.”

 

“Why bother?  Just blow it up,” Hux advises.  He shoots Kylo a snarky look.  “Isn’t that what you Skywalkers are best at?  Blowing up Death Stars?”

 

“You probably shouldn’t say that in Darth Vader’s castle,” Kylo smirks.  But actually, blowing up the weapon isn’t a bad idea.  Why didn’t he think of that?

 

“Eliminate that weapon and both sides will sleep better.   Because Jerard knows you will use it, and you know he will use it too,” Hux reasons. 

 

Kylo states the contrary case now just to see how Hux will react.  “That weapon could be useful.  Without a way to end this revolt decisively, it could drag on for years.  This could be the Clone Wars all over again.”

 

“Minus the clones.”

 

“Now who’s being pedantic?” Kylo gripes.  That comment earlier had stung. His eyes wander hopefully over to the invalid Chancellor. He sort of misses these verbal brawls with Hux.  “I don’t suppose you want your old job back?” he offers.

 

“They’re shooting Senators these days, or haven’t you noticed?” 

 

“I meant as a general.” Kylo begrudgingly admits, “You’re pretty good in a fight.”

 

“I’m also dead,” Hux points out. “I’m officially dead and that’s the safest place for me to be right now,” he reasons.  It’s hard to argue with that logic.  “I went viral on the holonet.   It’s trillions of hits now,” he brags.  But evidently Hux feels a bit slighted because he complains, “Your press conference eulogy could have been better.”

 

Kylo grunts. “I don’t have your bombast.”

 

“I don’t have my bombast either,” Hux sighs. “It still hurts to talk after a while with these new lungs.”

 

“What’s your prognosis?” Kylo fishes. 

 

Hux shrugs. “With three to six more months of regular bacta injections and daily physical therapy, I should regain adequate function and stamina.”   He looks glum.  “It’s good days and bad days.”

 

“Is this a bad day?” Kylo wants to know.

 

“Actually, it was a good day until you showed up.”

 

“You sound like your old self at least,” Kylo observes with a smirk.  Only Hux dares to speak to him like that.  It’s a bit refreshing to have someone push back.  Rey used to do it too, he recalls wistfully. 

 

Kylo renews his offer.  “I’m serious. Do you want your old job back?  I need a good general.”  All the best military minds have defected to Jerard’s side. Kylo is desperate for some experienced wartime leadership.

 

“Does that mean you would listen to me?” Hux asks pointedly.  “Because I tried to warn you.  On multiple occasions—“

 

“That’s the one and only time you get to say ‘I told you so,’” Kylo interrupts.  He’s a bit touchy about that.  But he admits, “I thought you were behind the revolt.”

 

“If this were two years ago, I might have been,” Hux confesses dryly.

 

“What changed your mind?”

 

It’s a home question.   Armitage Hux looks thoughtful for a moment.  “Jerard is an opportunist.  He doesn’t stand for anything so much as he stands against things.   He worked behind the scenes for years to get all the hardliners revved up with zeal for their fascist caliphate utopia.  That might work on a small scale, but it will never rule the galaxy.  There are too many different species and cultures on too many systems to micromanage like he wants.  My stint as your Chancellor taught me that.”  Hux nods slowly.  “It’s a big galaxy.  Not everyone thinks alike.  One size does not fit all.  And too much repression just breeds revolt over time.”

 

That quite an admission from Starkiller Hux.  Kylo smirks.  “Did all that faux democracy wear off on you?”

 

The comment earns Kylo a cold glare.  But Hux seems convinced of his wisdom and its application to the current circumstance.  “Maybe you should let Jerard have his revolt and let your hot war grow cold,” Hux muses in a bold idea that is very him.  “Then you can sit back and watch his breakaway state crumble in ten years’ time.”

 

“Those are my citizens who will suffer,” Kylo reminds him.

 

“Since when do you care about them?” Hux challenges. 

 

“Since I became Supreme Leader.”

 

“Ah, yes, heavy is the head that wears the crown.  Or the mask, as it were,” Hux quips.  “Have you ever considered that maybe the galaxy should not be unified?  That maybe the local systems and sectors should decide what to do?”

 

“Oh, you are a democrat now,” Kylo accuses.  “Has death made you a fan of disorder?  Because you’re sounding like a Separatist.”

 

“No,” Hux counters evenly, refusing to be baited.  “I’m simply agreeing with Jerard’s view that the time for you space wizard despots has passed.  That’s the only part he gets right.  The colossal hubris of you Force types presuming to know what is best for all of us is pretty well exposed by now.  Palpatine and Vader failed, Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa’s New Republic failed, and now your Empire is falling apart.”  Hux slants icy blue eyes his direction as he voices aloud Kylo’s secret fear, “Maybe, Ren, the Force is no longer with you.”

 

Kylo frowns and deflects the comment, “The Force is what brought you back to life.”

 

“Oh, I’m a believer now, for certain,” Hux freely admits.  “But just because I believe in the Force does not mean that I believe every Force user’s goals are holy.”  Hux settles back in his chair and broods dejectedly, “Maybe I am a democrat these days.  As I get older, I’m finding I’m far less certain of things that I once firmly believed.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Kylo commiserates.

 

Now it’s Hux’s turn to smirk.  “In that big reveal press conference you held, you sounded as if you were re-founding the Republic.”

 

“Yeah?”  Sheepish Kylo gives a pragmatic shrug.   “Well, maybe I am.  Sort of.   I’m not sure.  If it works . . . “  With Hux in a subdued, talkative mood, Kylo starts fishing again.  “What’s Vitiate’s angle in all of this?”

 

“Who knows?   He’s mostly concerned with Rey.  Ren, I think he could care less if you twist in the wind.  I rather think he will enjoy it.”

 

“Is he in bed with Jerard?”  Kylo asks the question directly this time.

 

“I don't know.  But I doubt it.  He would never knowingly endanger Rey and Carl.”

 

Kylo nods.  That sounds right given what he knows now.

 

“I think he’s just sitting on the sidelines biding his time.  Ren, he wouldn’t bother stealing Rim systems to dismantle your Empire.  He’d just show up at the Palace and kill you himself.”  Hux now warns, “Watch yourself.  His eyes and ears are everywhere.  All the medics here are virtual zombie slaves to him.   And these aren’t weak minded class C trooper recruits who have been reconditioned.  They are accomplished professionals who he kidnapped here to treat me.”

 

“He must like you,” Kylo smirks.

 

“I’m his test case.  He’s out of practice resurrecting people.  Said it had been about three thousand years since his last miracle.  So he started with me as the easy task.  Apparently reviving Force users is a more difficult trick.” 

 

“Yeah, I could see that,” Kylo agrees.

 

“You should get out of here.  Who knows when he’ll be back.”

 

They both know that’s good advice.  Once he gets a DNA sample from Rey, he plans to leave.  So Kylo nods and says again, “Thank you again for trying to help Rey.”

 

“I didn’t do it for you or for him,” Hux sniffs.  “I did it for her.”

 

“I know that.  You always liked her.”

 

“She was too good for you.”

 

“Maybe so,” Kylo is noncommittal. “Good luck with your recovery,” he says awkwardly before he stands to take his leave. 

 

“Ren,” Hux calls after him.  “I hope you get the baby back.”

 

Kylo nods.  “Think about that job offer,” he persists, “Because you would—”

 

The whine of ion engines approaching gets both of their attention now.  Kylo never finishes his thought.

 

Hux blinks in alarm.  “That’s him!  You need to leave,” he urges.

 

“Too late.”  Besides, this is his castle.  Now that his nemesis is here, Kylo refuses to run away.  This meeting is going to happen eventually, and Kylo would prefer to have at least some say over the time, place, and witnesses.

 

“Don’t be a fool!  He hates you,” Hux hisses.

 

“Maybe so. But I’m betting he loves Rey more,” Kylo mutters.  After all, at least on Mortis Vitiate had said he needed Kylo’s help to heal Rey.  In that case, killing him would seem ill-advised. Still, feeling a mix of resignation and trepidation, Kylo walks out to the landing platform.  He plants his feet, crosses his arms, and watches Darth Vitiate’s ship land.  Just where things stand with his old Master right now is anyone’s guess.

 

 

 


	53. Chapter 53

Darth Vitiate strides down the ramp of his brand-new gleaming corvette cruiser towards Mustafar Castle like he owns the place.  It’s very annoying. 

 

The attitude of the ancient Sith hasn’t changed, but the rest of him clearly has.   For this is no old fossil wandering around like an anachronism in modern life.  Gone are the thick kingly robes trimmed in gold that Kylo remembers from Mortis.  This version of Lord Vitiate perfectly belongs in the present.  He matches his shiny new ride, dressed with a casual elegance that screams credits and class.  Like some Core world financier mogul on casual Friday.   He’s sporting an open collar tunic, civilian pants and shoes, and a matching half cape in navy—navy!—that are strangely reminiscent of Uncle Lando.  Darth Vitiate has a new clean-shaven look as well.  Beneath the salt and pepper wiseman beard, the Sith Emperor looks very Skywalker.  And not like Uncle Luke Skywalker.  More like a fifty-five-year-old Anakin Skywalker if Kenobi hadn’t dunked him in lava. 

 

Wow . . .  Kylo blinks in silence as he takes it all in.  There is no denying that this guy is the family patriarch.  Suddenly Kylo feels at a disadvantage.  Like he’s trying too hard to cosplay the past in his black uniform. 

 

He reflexively covers his faltering confidence with aggression.  “You're out,” Kylo calls with a fresh scowl at his approaching nemesis.

 

His great-grandfather/father-in-law looks similarly unenthused to find him in attendance.  “You are not welcome here, Apprentice,” Vitiate calls back.   Behind him, two men in white lab coats disembark and dutifully follow. 

 

“This is my castle,” Kylo reminds everyone.  And does he sound defensive?  He’s not defensive.  He’s not the interloper here.  They are.

 

“You are not welcome here,” Vitiate repeats.  This time, it comes out more of a growl.  And did he mistake it, or did the Sith just roll his eyes?   Kylo can’t tell at this distance.  But he stands his ground. 

 

His old Master walks up fast to confront him.   He looks Kylo over with a withering contempt and blatant censure that makes him want to wince.  Vitiate sees it, too.  It’s yet another power bleed before his foe, so Kylo again goes on the offensive.

 

“How did you get out?” he demands.

 

The ancient Sith smirks triumphantly.  “I knew if you could balance the Force, it would be easy for me.”

 

Kylo calls bullshit on that claim.  “Took you long enough,” he goads. 

 

“Be gone, Apprentice,” he is summarily dismissed.  “You are not welcome here,” Lord Vitiate hisses.  They are practically toe-to-toe now.  Vitiate is crowding him deliberately.

 

Kylo nods slowly.  “I’ll leave as soon as I get a DNA sample for Rey.”

 

That intention provokes a swift and strong reaction.  “You cannot clone a Force user,” Vitiate mistakes his meaning.  “And I forbid you to try. You will not disparage my daughter’s dignity in that fashion!”

 

While the Sith Emperor makes this menacing speech, the men in white coats catch up from behind.  Recognizing their host, each silently takes a knee behind Vitiate.  It is the formal respect due to Kylo Ren as Supreme Leader. 

 

“Oh, get up,” Vitiate is angered by the show of deference.  “Do not kneel to this fool!  Do not be impressed by my great-grandson.  I consider him to be a disappointment.  A great disappointment.”   The aggrieved Sith punctuates his criticism with a bolt of Force lightning.  It’s a stunt to demonstrate for all to see just who the top dog is.  And now, the Supreme Leader is on his knees on the hot pavement like the medics.

 

“This is my castle,” Kylo stubbornly pants as he climbs to his feet and glares.

 

“Then thank you for your hospitality,” Vitiate deadpans as he shoots yet another blast of lightning his way from close range.  This time, Kylo anticipates the attack and successfully dodges.  Then he shoots back some lightning of his own.  His old Master is unconcerned.  Vitiate effortlessly deflects the potent Force energy with a casual wave of his hand.  It’s an understated move that is totally badass.  Now Kylo is really intimidated.  

 

Lord Vitiate turns to the two wide-eyed additions to his medical team and instructs, “Go inside to join the others.  Serve me well and you will be handsomely rewarded.  Serve me ill, and you will die.”  It’s the Sith version of a ‘welcome to the team’ pep talk.  Apparently, even though Vitiate managed to balance the Force, all that Light Side goodness didn’t stick.  Or if it did, he’s not letting on.

 

The men hasten to comply but Kylo refuses to budge.  And now, Vitiate persists in trying to throw him out of his own castle.  “Shouldn't you be defending your glorious Empire?” his foe drawls, lifting one eyebrow to convey his skepticism.  While the ultimate Dark Master seems to have eschewed the sartorial trapping of the past—Kylo is still thrown by the choice of navy in lieu of black—old Darth Vitiate has lost none of his gravitas.  He rasps, “Be on your way!” in a quiet voice that has more effect than any shout.

 

They are going nowhere with this confrontation, and Kylo is loath to escalate it.  So rather than tell the trespassing Sith one more time to get off his lawn, Kylo starts looking for information.  “What does the kid look like?” he demands.

 

“What kid?”

 

“My kid.”

 

“Oh, so now you're curious?”  Vitiate’s words drip with sarcasm.  “What has brought on this sudden paternal devotion?”

 

“Jerard claims to have him.” 

 

“Does he now?”   Vitiate’s eyes find Kylo’s and narrow.  Yes, he has his old Master’s full attention now.  The wily Sith’s demeanor seems to shift slightly.  “Tell me.”

 

Kylo reaches into his pocket for his datapad.  He shows Vitiate the grainy, blurry proof of life picture the traitors delivered.  It’s a screaming baby wrapped in blankets.

 

Vitiate considers the picture.  “Carl has hair.  Lots of hair.  Skywalkers always have good hair.”

 

“That kid could have hair,” Kylo observes.  “The blanket and little cap he's wearing might obscure it.” 

 

“Carl still had blue eyes when I last saw him.”

 

“It’s hard to tell the eye color in this picture.  He's squinting as he screams.” 

 

Vitiate hands back the datapad.  “Get a blood sample,” he orders.

 

“I did.” 

 

“And?”

 

“Inconclusive. I could be the father.” 

 

That answer makes his father-in-law snarl, “You got any other kids?   Did you cheat on my daughter?” he accuses.

 

“No!” Kylo yelps quickly.   “Look, I never met him.  I wouldn't recognize my own kid if I saw him,” he bemoans.  And yeah, that’s his own fault.  But they are way past blame now.  “That’s why I need a blood sample from Rey.  That’s why I need any other information you can remember about the baby.”

 

“You will know him when you meet him,” Vitiate reveals cryptically.

 

“But how—”

 

“The same way Vader recognized Luke Skywalker in the Death Star trench run and knew to hesitate before he blew him out of the sky.  The same way I recognized you as an especially awkward pimple faced kid who didn’t know one end of a sword from the other.”  Vitiate is sneering and it’s ugly.  “Trust me.  You will know Carl when you meet him.”

 

What, are they name calling now?  Really??  Frustrated Kylo gripes, “Get to the point.”

 

“He has an enormous Force imprint.  It is impossible to miss.”   Vitiate nods approvingly.  “That boy is full of Force.  Carl will be a vast upgrade from you.”

 

Yeah?   “I pulled a star destroyer out of orbit,” Kylo brags. 

 

“Size matters not, Apprentice.”

 

“That’s a lie men tell themselves,” Kylo smirks back. He slants some side eye his old Master’s direction.  “I guess you’re one of them.”

 

That remark earns him some more lightning.  And, fuck, that hurts.  That really hurts.

 

While Kylo picks himself off the ground a second time, Vitiate is still musing over the potential of his latest grandson.  “One day perhaps little Carl may grow to rival my talents.”

 

“If he’s alive,” Kylo sighs.

 

“Carl is alive.”

 

That tone is far too confident for the situation.  Kylo is instantly suspicious.  “What aren’t you telling me?” he demands.  “Do you have him?”

 

“No.  But he is alive.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I haven’t seen him in the Force.  I’ve been looking for him there,” Vitiate reveals.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

His old Master makes it a teachable moment as he explains, “To resurrect someone is to coax their soul back from the netherworld of the Force.   To pull them back from the universal consciousness to which they have returned.  To make distinct again their unique self.  Call it heaven or call it Hell, but there is an afterlife, Apprentice.  It is not as literal or as fanciful as many religions teach, but it is real.  Think of it as a version of Mortis.”

 

“That’s a lot of people . . . ”

 

“Not really.  Most people’s souls dissolve into the Force upon death.  But powerful Force users tend to remain distinct for much longer.  That’s how Jedi Masters learned to become Force ghosts and why the Sith were known to haunt specific objects and locations.  Because even dead, they remained themselves for a period of time.  It makes Force users easy to find in the Force.  It is pulling them back to the living present that is the hard part.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“My namesake is alive,” Vitiate says with absolute certainty.  It’s the most comforting thing Kylo has heard in months. 

 

“Good,” he breathes out his relief.  “That’s something at least.”  Then remembering his Master’s snarky comments, he makes one of his own now.  “Carl . . . I hate that name.   It's a name for a peasant.  Or some mild-mannered middle manager.” 

 

“Or an Emperor,” Emperor Carl Tenebrae, Dark Lord Vitiate counters.  “It's better than being named for the Jedi who maimed Lord Vader, Supreme Leader Obi-Wan Solo,” the Sith adds rather pointedly.  Then he moves on.  “What is Jerard proposing?”

 

“A trap.  I am requested to appear personally at a rendezvous point to retrieve my kid.  And then they kill me.” 

 

Vititiate snorts.  “Don't do that.  It's a stupid way to end.  But then again,” he shoots Kylo a look, “it might be fitting.”

 

Kylo bristles.  “I'm not actually going to show up.  I'm sending a praetorian dressed as me.” 

 

“Oh, what a genius ruse,” the old Sith drawls.  He’s unimpressed.  “Half of the galaxy dresses as you for Halloween, Apprentice.  You can be sure that the enemy will anticipate that ploy.”

 

“You got a better idea?” Kylo challenges.

 

“Yes.  In fact, I do.  I will go in your place,” Vitiate announces.

 

“What?” Kylo isn’t following.

 

“I will project a version of you.”

 

“Oh.  That could work.”

 

“Of course, it will work,” his old Master snaps.   “You yourself never suspected Snoke was a projection.  Jerard’s men will never suspect I’m not you.”

 

“That could actually work.” Kylo warms to the idea fast, seeing its many advantages.   Chief among them the fact that Kylo himself will not be at risk.  It removes the risk that if he dies, the Empire might fall apart like in the aftermath of Palpatine’s death.  “You’d do that for me?” the words slip out before Kylo can stop them.  He instantly cringes at the slip.

 

“No,” Vitiate growls.  “I'm doing it for my daughter and my grandson, on the off chance Jerard’s claim is actually true.” 

 

Kylo nods.  He doesn’t really care what Vitiate’s motivation is.  All that matters is that he’s not in this situation alone.  He’s now got the most powerful Force user ever to live on his side.  For this purpose at least, Team Skywalker will reunite. 

 

“Thank you,” Kylo says with utter sincerity. 

 

“If it is true, and I retrieve Carl, then I can feel comfortable killing you,” Darth Vitiate elaborates with a nasty smile.  “We can have a regency period until my newest Apprentice comes of age.  Or, maybe,” he muses blithely, “I will keep you around so the boy can kill you to complete his training.  Every Dark Side warrior must kill his father to prove his worth,” he pontificates.

 

“On second thought,” Kylo grumbles, “I'll just go with the praetorian in the outfit.”

 

“Nonsense.  You will bungle it.  Show me the message.”  Kylo digs in his pocket to retrieve his datapad again.  He plays for Vitiate the gloating recording from his enemy.   His father-in-law watches closely and then decides, “Leave things to me.”

 

“If we get a sample from Rey, we can confirm whether it is Carl in advance,” Kylo suggests.

 

The ancient Sith shrugs this off.  “Either way, we should confront them.  If the boy is not Carl, we will still get a chance to meet the enemy on this matter.  It might provide clues to the boy’s whereabouts.”

 

“If they know.”

 

“It is possible that they might have him and still try to pass off another kid on us as a substitute.  To hold the real baby back for leverage later on.”

 

“Why do you think that?” Kylo frowns.

 

“Because it is something I might do,” Vitiate answers.  “We won’t know for sure if it’s Carl unless we meet them.”  He thinks a moment.   "Release that message publicly.  Show the galaxy that baby murdering thug," Darth Vitiate sniffs with chilling contempt.  And that's a bold moral statement for a guy with his kill count.  

 

But whatever. Kylo shrugs. "Everyone already knows he's a thug."

 

"Release the message," Vitiate instructs again testily.  "Never pass up the chance to make your enemy look bad, Apprentice."

 

“It will just put more pressure on the situation if we make this public,” Kylo counters.

 

“Yes, that’s the point.  Pressure on Jerard.  When is the meeting?  And where?”

 

“One week's time.  In the Mid Rim.”

 

“Good.  Go back to your war,” Vitiate orders.  “I will find you on Coruscant when the time is right.”

 

Relieved Kylo nods.  Suddenly, he feels a lot better.  More hopeful.  And that prompts him to change the topic back to resurrection.  He’s dying to ask about Rey.  “I saw your handiwork inside.  Hux looks good.  I'm surprised you revived him.”

 

Vitiate shoots him a cutting look.  “He died attempting to save my daughter and my grandson. Resurrection was a fitting reward for their champion.”

 

“What about—”

 

Vitiate cuts him off.  “Leave me.  Go save your Empire.  You are dismissed, Apprentice.” 

 

“But—”

 

“You are dismissed, Apprentice.”  The words are sharper this time.  Kylo knows that tone.  And rather than argue further with his new sometime ally, Kylo lets the point go.  A tenuous truce with Vitiate for the sake of his lost son is far better than Vitiate as a full-fledged enemy.  Kylo has enough of those already.

 

Days later, Kylo is back on Coruscant.  He’s trying to assemble what he needs to make productive use of his time on the way to spring the trap at the rendezvous point.  He’s nervous about the situation and it’s making him especially testy.  It doesn’t help that Lord Vitiate is nowhere to be found.  They need to leave shortly or they will be late.

 

Kylo snarls at his chief of staff as he walks into his office, “Where's that datafile on the Operation Yavin strategy?” 

 

“Sir?” the man blinks.

 

“Where's the datafile on the Yavin strategy?”  Otherwise known as the how-best-to-blow-up-your-own-super-weapon white paper.

 

“I just gave it to you, Sir.  In the hallway.  Just now,” his staffer stammers, looking flustered.

 

“I wasn't in the hallway.  I've been here all morning,” Kylo complains, feeling exasperated.  He has a hair trigger these days and it’s getting worse.

 

“But, Sir, you were just there.   I know for sure.  I handed it to you myself.”

 

Kylo thinks a moment before he exhales a curse.  “Fuck . . .”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Was I wearing the helmet?”  

 

“Well, yes—"

 

“Fuck!” Kylo rages.  That white paper just fell into some doppelganger spy’s hands.  “Lock this place down now!  We've got a security breach.”  Kylo scowls at the flustered man who hesitates.  “NOW!” Kylo repeats emphatically.

 

His chief of staff whirls to implement the order just as masked and caped ‘Kylo Ren’ appears in the doorway.  “Looking for me?” he growls through his mask.  “Looking for this?”  ‘Leader Ren’ now tosses over the missing datafile to Kylo. 

 

His chief of staff looks from Kylo to ‘Kylo’ in utter confusion.  The man visibly gulps.  “Uhhhhh . . . boss???”

 

“Stand down,” Kylo answers.  Because it’s Vitiate playing games.  Kylo can sense him in the Force.  It’s that same mental feel that Kylo recalls from their run-in days ago at Mustafar Castle.  Now that the old Sith is no longer a projection, his personal Force signature is exposed.  And, honestly, the feel of his power is simply awesome.  This guy’s imprint on the cosmos is massive to behold.  It makes Kylo a bit jealous.

 

“W-Why are there two of y-you?” his staffer asks as he reaches for his sidearm.

 

Vitiate ignores the man as he steps past him.  He twirls to display himself from all angles.  “What do you think?  I've got the voice down.   All amplified and menacing.   And your stomp.”  Vitiate leans forward to purposely stride around the room with clenched fists.  Like some Cro-Magnon Sith Lord.

 

Kylo is not amused.  “I don't walk like that.”

 

“Yes, you do. You know, the get up is really good.  But then you take off the helmet and the big reveal is such a letdown.”  To demonstrate that contention, Vitiate doffs his mask to reveal his complete projection.  And yikes.  It’s like looking in the mirror if the mirror was a hater laughing at you.

 

“T-There's two of you.  There’s really t-two of you . . . “  His chief of staff doesn’t know what to think as he looks from one to the other.

 

“The galaxy isn't big enough for two of us,” Vitiate’s version of himself smirks. 

 

The real Kylo doesn’t miss a beat.  “I concur.”

 

“What do you think of the likeness?”  Vitiate begins fishing for compliments and offering insults.   He gestures to his face.  “One part sneer, one part pout—"

 

“I do not pout.”

 

“You just did,” his lookalike accuses with a chuckle.  Then he takes up where he left off.  “One part little lost boy desperate to be loved—"

 

“Fuck you!”

 

Vitiate laughs and points a finger back at him. “No, fuck you!”  Then he collapses into rather undignified tee-heeing at his stupid joke.

 

Damn, Kylo wishes this guy were still in Force jail. 

 

“The nose is perfect, no?”  Vitiate turns to the side to model his profile.  “I've been staring at that long schnozz of yours for so long that it was easy to replicate.  But did I get the scar right?  I remember it more down the middle of the forehead and across the nose.  But it seems to have healed differently.”  Reflexively, Kylo raises a self-conscious hand to stroke down the faint remnant of the Starkiller woods duel.   Vitiate takes the opportunity to sneer, “Such a pity my daughter didn't take your head off instead of just mark your face. Still . . . she made you look like a man and less like a hurt puppy.”

 

“You look fine.  Let’s go.”  Stung Kylo is ready to end this farce. 

 

Unfortunately, Vitiate is not.  “I must say, all this hair is hot.  Especially in that helmet.  I can't see a thing in that helmet.” 

 

“Don't diss the helmet,” Kylo growls.  He’s touchy about the helmet.

 

“It's old school Sith, I'll grant you that.  But even back in my day when helmets were an on-again, off-again Dark Side fad, I never wore one.  None of my sons did either.  Although my oldest wore a respirator now and then.  It was a souvenir from a Jedi who dumped a cliff on him on Alderaan.”

 

Whatever, Kylo thinks.  But Vitiate is just warming up.  He reminisces now, “Amazingly, he survived.  But Gaius was tough.   It took more than a cheap shot from a wookiee with a bowcaster to take him down.” 

 

Kylo ignores the jibe.  “Can we go?” he complains impatiently.

 

“Yep, in those days, the Jedi meant business.  You wouldn't have seen a Jedi show up on the Death Star to talk a Sith back to the Light.  Back then, the Jedi let their swords do the talking.  There was no ‘search your feelings’ crap about ‘letting go of your hate.’  It was more along the lines of ‘prepare to meet the Force, you evil Sith.’”  Vitiate sighs aloud.  “No one was conflicted back then.  I had to create the Skywalkers to get some conflicted souls.”

 

Kylo’s assistant who stands watching all of this now says aloud under his breath, “This is weird. This is really weird.  It’s creeping me out.” 

 

“Yeah,” Kylo agrees for a completely different reason.  “It's creeping me out, too.  You're not supposed to be this happy,” he accuses Vitiate. 

 

His doppelgänger shrugs sheepishly.  “I just broke out of Force jail.   What can I say?   I'm a happy guy.  The OG Sith is back on the loose!” Vitiate now hoots like he’s at some Dark Side frat party.  It’s utterly ridiculous.

 

Kylo shakes his head.  “I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.  But it's good,” he decides as he looks ‘himself’ over critically.  “It's really good.  Let me see the sword.”  It’s all about the sword. 

 

“Aha!   Here's my best pose.”  Vitiate yanks out his sword and lights it with just the right double snap and hiss.  He drops into a prepatory lunge, looking ready to attack.

 

Kylo nods approvingly and his old Master starts trolling him some more.  “Shall I go slash up an instrument panel in a fit of rage?   Apprentice, you have dueled with more defenseless machinery than I care to count.  But at least you won those battles.”

 

Kylo shoots ‘himself’ a quelling look as his chief of staff endeavors to stifle his amused smile.  

 

“Check out my 'I'm not afraid of you, Uncle Luke' pose.”  Vitiate now brandishes the sword with his arm extended at eye level. He’s squinting down the blade with a curled upper lip.  

 

Kylo quickly disavows the gesture.  “I never did that.”

 

“You sure did.  It was good.  Here, let's reenact.  You be Skywalker and feed me the lines.”

 

“No.”

 

“Go on,” Vitiate cajoles.  “Start with 'I failed you Ben, I'm sorry.’”

 

“No.”

 

“Come on, do it.  And then, we’ll go. I promise.”

 

Kylo decides to humor him to get things moving.  He dutifully mutters in monotone, “I failed you, Ben.  I'm sorry.”

 

His Force projection emotes back at a fever pitch, all flashing eyes and righteous indignation.  “I'm sure you are!”

 

Kylo is taken aback.  “I never said that.”

 

“Did too.”

 

“Did not!   And if I did, it wasn't like that.”   That’s not at all how Kylo remembers it. 

 

Vitiate turns to Kylo’s aide.  “What do you think?  Were you there?”

 

“Er.   Uh.   Yes.”

 

“And?”

 

The man looks apologetic.  “Yeah, that's pretty much how you said it, Sir.”

 

“Yes!  Me for the win!”  Vitiate is back to being his frat boy self, although it is especially bizarre coming out of the mouth of Kylo’s lookalike projection.  “You were such fourteen-year-old petulance in that moment.  It was classic you,” Vitiate chortles. 

 

“Was not,” Kylo grumbles. 

 

“Was too.”

 

Kylo quickly changes the subject. “I don’t like you this happy.  I don’t like it at all.”   Vitiate was far preferable in his harsh taskmaster Snoke version.  Kylo pretty much hates this new schtick.  If this is his old Master’s authentic self, Kylo understands better and better why he ended up in Force jail for millennia. 

 

 “Why?” His foil is coy. “Afraid that it might rub off on you?  You there,” Vitiate prods at Kylo’s aide.  “Watch me.  I’m going to smile.  Are you ready?”

 

 “I don’t smile,” Kylo harrumphs. 

 

 “You do now.”  Vitiate’s projection starts grinning like a fool. 

 

“That is wrong.  So wrong.  Kylo Ren does not smile,” the real Kylo Ren announces. 

 

“Doesn’t all that earnest angst get boring?” Vitiate wonders aloud. 

 

“No.  No, it doesn’t.   Can we go?”  This is going on way too long.  He needs Vitiate’s help, but there’s only so much ridicule he will endure to get it.  “You know, for a guy thousands of years old, you can be awfully immature.”

 

“Oh, the irony of that statement,” his old Master snorts.  “So, will it work?” It’s a serious question.  Vitiate has dropped his epic trolling act finally.  

 

Kylo answers straight. “Yes.  It will.”

 

“Good. Now then, you there.”  Vitiate waves a hand before Kylo’s chief of staff.  “You only saw one Kylo Ren and he just dismissed you to get to work.”

 

The man nods, salutes, and promptly leaves.  

 

Kylo watches the man go. “Wow.  A Jedi mind trick.  You really have balanced the Force.”

 

“Nonsense,” Vitiate scoffs. “There's no such thing as a Jedi mind trick.  It's a complete misnomer. The Sith were the ones to perfect messing with people’s heads.  Give credit where credit is due.”   He turns off his sword now and looks to Kylo. “I've been looking forward to this.  When do we leave?”

 

“As soon as you morph into something unobtrusive. You can't walk outside like that.”

 

“How about this?”  Vitiate’s projects himself as Snoke. 

 

“No.”

 

“Then how about this?”  Vitiate projects himself as Darth Vader, complete with the respirator breathing.  

 

“Definitely no.”

 

“This?”  Vitiate projects himself as some unknown armored warrior. 

 

Kylo is stumped. “Who is that?”

 

“An old ally of mine. Mandalore the Ultimate.”

 

“Who?”

 

“The Great Shadow Father.  The last of Clan Taung to claim the title of Mandalore warlord.  Te Ani’la Mand’alor in his own language.  Doesn't ring a bell?  No?  Nothing?”  Vitiate looks disappointed.

 

Kylo shakes his head.  “Nothing.”

 

“Kids today,” Vitiate grunts.  “They don't teach you anything useful in school.”

 

“From age ten, I went to Jedi camp.  It was more rules than learning,” Kylo reminds him. 

 

“Ah, yes.  How could I forget.  You were homeschooled in the Force by that loser.  Well, I guess I absolve you for your ignorance.  It's more blame to lay on Skywalker.”  ‘Kylo’ cocks his head at Kylo.  “You really should learn about the Mandalorians.  I used to love them.  They were sort of like my old Empire without the Force but with more armor and cool jetpacks.  I used to affectionately consider the Mandalorians to be Sith-Lite.”

 

“Can we get going?” Kylo interrupts the history lesson to complain. “Hurry up, will you?  At this rate, I'm going to be late to my own ambush.”

 

“I suppose there's always my old standby.”  Vitiate now projects himself as a stormtrooper. 

 

“Good.  That works.  No, wait.  That's an Imperial stormtrooper.  We updated the armor some.”

 

“How's this?”

 

“Stop fucking around!  You know that's a clone trooper.  You need to be a First Order stormtrooper.  Get the helmet right, will you?”

 

“You're awfully touchy about helmets, you know that?  Alright.  Here.”

 

“Good.” Kylo is satisfied.  “Let's go.”  All this snarky glee has thoroughly pissed him off. Vitiate is not supposed to this happy.  Not when Rey is dead and the galaxy is turmoil.   Not when it’s unclear whether Kylo will meet his son for the first time today.   He’s too nervous and fretful for these antics.  

 

Vitiate the trooper escort heads for the door first until Kylo corrects him.  “You walk behind.  I walk in front.  Got it?”

 

“Right.  Copy that, Sir,” Vitiate dutifully plays his role and they step outside and head for Kylo’s waiting shuttle.   It will take them to the civilian cargo ship retrofitted with heavy weaponry that Kylo plans to use to slip behind enemy lines into the Mid Rim. 

 

“So if this is your projection, where is your real self?”  Kylo is curious. 

 

“Missing me?”

 

“No.  Where are you?”

 

“Loitering on your shuttle.  I've been here for about an hour wandering around to test out my disguise.  I need to be able to fool your men in order to fool Jerard's goons.”

 

It was a good idea.  Kylo nods as he keeps stomping towards the landing pad.  

 

Sure enough, Lord Vitiate in the flesh is hanging out in his civilian attire in his shuttle lounge.  It’s a mystery how he managed to sneak on and explain himself to the waiting squad of troopers and other staff members.  But he’s here and apparently, he’s pumped.  "Let's go kill some people!" he cheers.  

 

The sentiment makes Kylo sigh.  "I can't believe you balanced the Force. You of all people."

 

"Okay . . . then, let's go bring those kidnappers to justice!   Better?" he solicits.

 

“Better.   I guess.”  

 

“Few things are as exciting as going off to war,” his old Master says happily.   The comment just makes Kylo all the more sullen.

 

"I cannot believe you balanced the Force,” Kylo repeats.  Then he gives the order to liftoff, sends everyone but Vitiate into the far back of the small shuttle, and they are on their way.  His old Master has stopped projecting now.  It’s just him and Kylo.

 

“What’s the matter, Apprentice?”

 

Everything, it seems.  Kylo looks away and mutters, “This isn’t how it is supposed to be.”  Balancing the Force is supposed to bring peace and harmony.  Instead, the galaxy is at war and the non-Force using bad guys are winning.  It’s all wrong.  

 

“Were you expecting the universe to burst into rainbows, hearts, and flowers?   The skies to part and the angels to sing?  Were we all supposed to join hands and sing a hymn of praise?” Vitiate needles him.

 

“Well, maybe.   Something like that.  Something momentous.”  Balancing the Force was supposed to be a big fucking deal, but now it seems more like checking a box.  It’s a letdown.   Kylo is grumpy about it.

 

“Something momentous did happen.  I was released.”  Vitiate raises his hands high as he booms grandiosely to his absent audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, the God of the Force has returned.  This is my second coming. I have come again in glory to judge the living and the dead and this time my kingdom will have no end.  I have come down from Force heaven and become man yet again.”

 

Kylo crosses his arms and glares.  These ridiculous theatrics leave him cold.  “You’re insufferable.”  Hux has nothing on this guy’s pompousness. 

 

“I’m just getting started,” Vitiate trills gleefully.  

 

Tired of playing the straight man to his old Master’s glibness, Kylo buries his nose in his datapad.  It’s going to be a long ride, he thinks. 

 

Hours later, they are at safe distance from the rendezvous point in the cloaked and shielded cargo freighter.  They are waiting as the shuttle containing the Kylo Ren projection and a squad of troopers shows up for the ambush.  Kylo stands alone with Vitiate in the cockpit of the freighter. He’s attempting to monitor the action.  But the ancient Sith Master remains deep in concentration with his eyes closed.  Every time Kylo tries to ask what’s going on, his old Master shushes him.

 

It’s killing Kylo not to know what’s happening.  He’s dying to know if the baby is Carl.  What is going on in that shuttle??  Kylo frets and waits.  Then, he frets and waits some more.

 

Finally, Darth Vitiate opens his eyes and visibly relaxes.  “It is done.”

 

“Well??” Kylo demands.  “Did they even have a baby?”

 

“Yes.  But the child was not Carl.”

 

“Is that good or bad?” Kylo wonders aloud.

 

“Good in these circumstances.  Jump us out of here.  Now.”

 

Kylo nods to the two pilots behind them.  “Get us home. Tell the shuttle pilot to jump home, too.”  He turns back to Vitiate.  “What happened to the baby?  Are we taking him home?”

 

"He’s dead.  So are your troopers.  They are about to blow up the shuttle,” Vitiate reports grimly. 

 

"Wait—you got killed?"  Kylo turns incredulous eyes on his old Master.   "You got killed??"  That's not how this is supposed to go down.

 

"No, you got killed," Vitiate corrects him calmly.

 

"How?"  Did he die like a man or like some loser chump?

 

"You died reaching for the baby.  It was perfect.  So tragic.  So poignant," Vitiate muses.  "This will send your approval ratings straight up.   Especially with the women."

 

"Who cares?" Kylo snarls.  "This is war, not a popularity contest."

 

"Everything is a popularity contest," the ancient Sith observes wryly.  "Life is high school over and over again."

 

The fuck it is.  Kylo glares at his old Master.  This wasn’t supposed to end in defeat.  He’s very disappointed.  But sure enough, as his freighter crew prepares to make the jump back to Coruscant, the co-pilot reports that the shuttle has exploded. 

 

"You’re dead,” Vitiate observes the obvious.  “RIP Kylo Ren,” he gives an unholy grin.

 

Kylo swears under his breath.  “What now?”

 

"Now we wait for the enemy to claim victory for having killed you.  Let's go watch the holonet.  Your demise is going to be breaking news.  I can hardly wait," Vitiate says with ugly glee.

 

"You did this on purpose, didn’t you!” Kylo accuses as he follows.  He suddenly feels played in all of this.  “You just love punking people, don't you?"

 

Vitiate does not deny it. "You're so pitiful these days that it's no fun punking you.  So I will punk Jerard instead.”  He half-turns and halts a moment.  Now, the old Sith’s face is anything but joking.  “I am very, very angry with Jerard over my daughter.  In due time, I will get my revenge," he vows.

 

Sure enough, within the hour the footage of Vitiate's projection of Kylo Ren dying is everywhere.  It's pretty gory, too. 'Kylo Ren' dies shot in the heart as he lunges for his pretend son. Then, his attackers shoot him a few more times and then kick him for good measure.  Someone cruelly puts a blaster shot into the screaming baby.   Then, Jerard's men start posing for macabre selfies with the bodies.  It callous and gratuitous, like all of the traitors' holonet stunts.

 

"I died with my tongue out," Kylo complains sourly as they stand together watching the looping footage.  He glares over at Vitiate.  "Couldn't you have done better?" 

 

"No."  The Sith Emperor is unrepentant.  "It is my signature move.  If I ever die with my mouth closed, I might actually be dead.  Take a lesson there, Apprentice."

 

"Couldn't I be more heroic and less pathetic?  Because that looks pathetic.   I didn't even draw my sword."

 

"You are pathetic, Apprentice.  You need to learn to compartmentalize.  You will never last in this job if you don't.”

 

That unsolicited advice grates.  Kylo decides he's had enough of Lord Vitiate.  "Are we done here?   Because I need to go announce that I am alive."

 

"That's the point.  Jerard will look like a fool when in a few hours’ time you stand up and declare your death to be fake news.   It will call into question all of his claims."

 

"They likely never had the baby," Kylo sighs.  "Carl is probably long dead by now like . . . "   Like Rey.  But Kylo doesn't finish the thought.  He just wipes a hand through his messy hair.

 

His old Master is watching him closely.  "Do not give in to despair. Skywalkers are very hard to kill," Vitiate intones softly.

 

"He's a baby!  He can't walk, talk, or feed himself!" frustrated Kylo points out, “Let alone save himself!"

 

"Maybe so. But he still lives somewhere.  Carl has the ultimate ally," Vitiate reminds him. "He is a favorite of the Force."

 

"I used to be a favorite of the Force," Kylo gripes, "and look where it got me."

 

His old Master levels him a pointedly unsympathetic look.  "That wasn't the Force that was your undoing, Apprentice.  That was your own stupidity.   Fate does not reward dumbass moves."

 

Kylo shoots the annoying Sith a cold look.  "I wish you were back in prison."

 

“To tell the truth,” Vitiate confides, “I’m rather astonished that I got out.  But you said it yourself.   The Force is the Force. Dark and Light are more convenient constructs than true differences.  The Force has no conventional morality.  It’s largely indifferent to individual people’s concerns.”

 

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Kylo grouses.

 

“The Force chooses champions to implement its will.  Sometimes it’s the good guys, sometimes it’s the bad guys.  Whatever the times call for, I suppose.  The Force raises them up to be the instruments of fate.”

 

“The Chosen Ones?” Kylo guesses.

 

“And others from time to time.  There have been prophets of the Force all throughout history. Our family are just the latest.   And I am the most enduring.”

 

Whatever.  Kylo asks the ultimate question now.  “So what’s the point of it all?”

 

“That, Apprentice, I have yet to discover.”  Vitiate keeps musing.  “Balance in an individual is ever changing.  Balance in the larger scheme of things is the same, I suspect.  It’s not a status quo you reach, but an ongoing project.   One does not balance the Force and usher in some age of enlightenment for all.   The enlightenment is for us who endeavor to promote balance for others and for ourselves.”   

 

“So seeking balance is being balanced?”  Is Kylo understanding it right?

 

Vitiate shrugs.  “Maybe so.   I guess Revan did achieve it after all.”

 

Kylo looks down glumly.  “It didn’t matter.   It didn’t last.”

 

“That is because he passed his knowledge on to no one but me, his enemy.”  Darth Vitiate looks Kylo up and down now, taking measure of his old student.  “You must pass on what you have learned for it to matter.  And for that, we need Carl.”

 

Kylo nods and reveals softly, “I promised Rey that I would do what it takes to find our son.”

 

“I have promised her the same.”  The wily old Sith slants Kylo a warning look.  “It’s partly why you’re still alive.  To help find him.”

 

Finding Carl seems like a lost cause in Kylo’s opinion.  Because if General Jerard doesn’t have him, who will?  The kid was last seen in a temple filled with Jerard’s men.  He is far too young to crawl away even if he had been left behind.  In all likelihood, Kylo thinks, Carl is dead and Vitiate just hasn’t found him in the Force yet.  It makes Kylo want to focus on Rey instead.  And so, again he attempts to broach the subject of his wife.

 

"Well, I guess since you're already out, I might as well help you heal Rey."  And wait, that offer came out wrong.

 

Vitiate rejects him.  "I don't need your help.  You will remain at your Palace fighting your war," he orders.

 

“But—”

 

“You will not dare say her name in my presence again," the Sith Emperor decrees.  Whatever their detente is regarding the search for Carl, apparently it does not extend to Rey. “You want to heal someone?   I’ll send you Hux.   You could use a decent general.”

 

Hux?  Really?   That’s not what Kylo had in mind. 

 

“You owe him,” Vitiate points out, correctly reading Kylo’s reaction.  “We both do.”   Then the Sith glares at his Apprentice. “Hux told me you lost your super weapon.  He also told me what you call it.”   His immortal sometime-Master, sometime-ally, sometime-enemy evidently fails to see the humor in the name Sithkiller Base.  “Get in a ship and blow up that technological terror before it’s finished,” he orders, “lest Jerard kill you with it.”

 

 


	54. Chapter 54

True to his word, Darth Vitiate sends him Hux.  He does it in style, too.  A week after Kylo appears before the cameras to debunk his own death, one of the PR types interrupts him in a meeting. 

 

“Hux’s shuttle has entered orbit, Sir.”

 

That’s news to him.  Kylo looks up in surprise.

 

“The troops are assembled on the landing pad as you requested.  The press is out in full force for this.”

 

Kylo’s eyes narrow.  He walks to the window of the conference room he’s in to peer down at hundreds of troops standing in neat lines on the Palace landing pad below.  It’s an impressive show of force.  It’s also just the sort of grand ceremonial welcome Leader Snoke used to receive.  Kylo being Kylo, Leader Ren has long since dispensed with these pleasantries.  But apparently, they are being revived for Hux.

 

“Who ordered this?” Kylo demands as a sneaking suspicion dawns. 

 

“You did, Sir.  Two days ago.”

 

“By com?”

 

“No.  In person.  Right here, actually.  Don’t you remember?”  The PR guy looks very troubled at Kylo’s questions.

 

“Yes, that’s right.”  Kylo nods absently as he glances back out the window at all the pomp and circumstance.  It’s just as he thought. Vitiate has been sneaking around as his Palace as his Force projection again.  Meddling as usual. 

 

“We have the statement you prepared loaded onto the teleprompter bot,” the nervous aide volunteers.  “Hux will be giving a speech, too.”

 

“Naturally,” Kylo responds dryly.   His Chancellor never saw a camera or a microphone he didn’t like.  “Where’s my speech?”

 

The aide hands over a datapad and Kylo skims through short remarks that warmly welcome Grand Moff—not Chancellor—Hux back to active duty as the General of the Armies and Fleets of the Second Galactic Empire.  It’s a grandiose made-up title giving Hux command second only to himself. 

 

“Has a press release on this gone out already?” Kylo wants to know.

 

“Y-Yes.  Like you ordered.”

 

Kylo nods.  Yes, Vitiate is most definitely meddling.   And he has managed to make Hux’s appointment both a fait accompli and a big media moment.

 

Kylo turns back to the prepared remarks.  Hux is revealed to have been gravely injured in the initial days of the revolt but not killed as previously thought.   The lurid holovid of his death that got so many views on the holonet is dismissed as fake news.   Just like the holovid of Kylo’s own supposed death at the hands of the enemy. 

 

“This is going to confuse the Hell out of people,” Kylo frowns. 

 

The aide nods his agreement.  “But it will encourage them, too.  Everyone loves Armitage Hux,” he says brightly, unaware that he’s talking to the lone dissenter to this opinion.  “If you’re ready, Sir, we’re waiting on you.”

 

That’s Kylo’s cue for his command performance.  He dutifully marches out unmasked to the Palace landing pad.  Then he processes down the center aisle of the perfect rows of officers, staff, and troopers all waiting to receive Grand Moff Hux. 

 

Vitiate has this entrance planned for maximum effect, Kylo perceives.   First a black command shuttle descends flanked by two TIE escorts.  Then down the ramp at a slow, dignified pace comes the man of the hour.  Army Hux leans heavily on a cane but he is otherwise looking mostly like his old self.  He’s dressed in his old general uniform with his perfect hair and shiny boots. 

 

When he reaches the bottom of the ramp, Hux snaps to rigid attention and salutes Kylo.  For his part, Leader Ren nods in silent acknowledgement.  Then in an impromptu move to make nice for the many camera bots buzzing around, Kylo steps forward to shake Hux’s hand. 

 

“What the fuck is this?” Kylo asks under his breath as both he and Hux pose for the obligatory picture.  Hux smiles for the cameras.  Kylo, of course, does not. 

 

“I’m being released into your tender loving care,” Hux responds with thick sarcasm.  “I am tasked with winning the war.  Someone has to save our skins from Jerard.”   Hux now waves to the ebullient crowd who have relaxed from formal attention and broken ranks to cheer their war hero Chancellor.  “Make this quick, will you?  The stim shot they gave me is wearing off.  I’m not as strong as I look,” Hux sniffs. 

 

Glancing over at the very pale, exceedingly thin general, Kylo decides to comply with that request.  He heads for the podium and makes his cursory speech, editing the schmaltzy prepared text a bit as he goes.   Because there’s no cause to praise Hux quite that much.

 

Hux too gives short remarks.  It’s a vigorous war cry of a speech that is vintage him.  The guy might look like he is ready to faint, but he’s lost none of his fighting spirit. 

 

Hux begins, “They say the first casualty of war is truth, and they are correct.  The enemy is full of lies.  I am but one of them. Do not be misled by those with an agenda to deceive and to destroy.   Do not be discouraged by their inflated claims to near victory.  Today I read that the enemy has called for us to surrender.  To which I say we have not yet begun to fight.  I stand before you now injured but alive, weakened in body but not in resolve, ready to carry on and to persevere.  So that peace and order will once again rule the day and all systems will bow down to the First Order for a safe and secure society.”

 

As Kylo listens in, it occurs to him that Army Hux is a good symbol for the Empire.  Bloodied but not beaten, down but far from out.  And, well, the guy is super smart.  It’s book smarts plus street smarts, and that’s a very lethal combination.  Intelligent pragmatism is hard to beat.

 

When the speechifying is done and the crowd’s adulation is still at fever pitch, Hux turns his face from the crowd and the cameras to rasp, “Get me out of here.”  That plea prompts Kylo to nod to his chief of staff standing off to the side in his usual cue to wrap thing up.  It’s not a moment too soon either.  Because as frail Hux gives one last wave to the crowd, he falters and weaves a moment on his feet.

 

Kylo is the one standing closest to him to react.  “Whoa there, General Grievous.  Here.”  Kylo snakes one long arm under Hux’s left arm to prop him up. Then leaning on his cane on his right side and on Leader Ren on his left side, the First Order’s new Moff makes his way slowly into the Palace.  It’s fifty meters at most, but it seems to take forever with the gauntlet of onlookers and gawking press.  

 

There’s no hiding Hux’s true condition now.  Not with camera bots buzzing close to catch his every pained grimace and sharply attuned microphones that detect every word.  But whatever.  Kylo goes with it.   What else can they do?

 

“This is humiliating,” Hux snarls as he swats at a too-close camera with his cane.

 

“I know,” Kylo commiserates. “I’ll never live this down.  Helping you is ruining my bad guy cred.”

 

“We’re the good guys,” Hux huffs. 

 

“Speak for yourself,” Kylo retorts.  Hux keeps sinking lower and lower, so Kylo shifts to prop him up more.  “This means we’re even for you saving me on Starkiller Base.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Hux readily agrees.  But he has lost none of his snark.  Hux shoots Kylo a sour look.  “I saw what you did to my old ship.”

 

“At least it’s off my front lawn.   It took a full month to remove it.   This place was looking like Jakku for a bit.”

 

“I liked that ship,” Hux groans.  He really does look awful.  Hefting him is far too easy.  The guy feels like a bag of bones. 

 

“Tell you what,” Kylo offers, “You help me win this war and I’ll get you a new ride.”

 

“Make it a super star destroyer, _Executor_ -class.  I want a vintage replica with state-of-the-art tech.”

 

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll let you have Snoke’s bigass ship.”

 

“You fixed it?”

 

“We’re working on it.”

 

It’s an odd procession as he and Hux trudge together slowly followed by a few obligatory praetorians and Kylo’s ever present staff.  He and Hux might be longtime comrades in arms, but they are unlikely allies.   That a fact known privately to the First Order elite who know the two men to be bitter competitors.  And it’s a fact known publicly to all who read the holonet tabloids that proclaimed them to be two-thirds of a notorious love triangle.  And so, this unprecedented public solidarity provokes any number of comments and stares. 

 

“Not much farther,” Kylo encourages as he looks up in the direction they are heading.  “One foot in front of the other, Army.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Hux pants.  “Only my friends call me that.”

 

“Oh, I still hate you,” Kylo clarifies for the record.

 

“Good.  That’s better.  For a moment there, I was worried.”

 

“You’re falling.  Hold on.”  Kylo shifts Hux a bit.  He’s pretty much got him hoisted over one shoulder now. 

 

“This is so humiliating.   The enemy is laughing at us,” Hux moans as they keep passing curious, piteous faces. 

 

“Yep,” Kylo agrees. “Look at me giving my new Moff a piggyback ride into my Palace.  Palpatine would never have done this for Vader.”

 

“I’m not your Vader.  You’re the Skywalker,” Hux accuses.  But then, he’s suddenly worried about his own legacy issues.  “My father would be livid if he saw this weakness . . . this horrifyingly public weakness.”

 

Recalling the impossible to please Brendol Hux, one of the founding fathers of the First Order, Kylo tends to agree.  But he asserts, “Your father was a complete asshole.”

 

“You’re so right.” Hux glances over.  His mind must be on fathers and sons because he volunteers, “Sorry about your boy.  I tried to save him.”

 

“We’ll get him back,” Kylo replies hopefully.  Then, remembering that he’s probably being recorded, he looks straight into the nearest camera bot to vow, “We’ll get him back.   The Force will protect him.  And anyone who tries to hurt him will answer to me.”  Let there be no doubt that this is an exceedingly personal matter for him.  He owes it to Rey to get their son back.

 

“Is it too soon to ask for a sick day?” fading Hux sighs as he stumbles again.

 

“It’s your first day on the job,” Kylo grumbles as he catches him.

 

“How about a nap?”

 

“We’re in the middle of a war.”

 

“Maybe a caf break?”

 

“Five minutes max.”

 

“Okay.  That will do.”

 

They are inside the Palace now.  The ever vigilant, always resourceful Mrs. Faris is waiting inside the doorway with a chair that grateful Hux collapses into.  Within fifteen minutes, Kylo’s head housekeeper has Army Hux back in the private family quarters tucked under the covers in one of the extra bedrooms.  She’s got a medic droid on the way, too.  But Mrs. Faris knows the expectations of the First Order elite, so Hux also has his datapad and comlink in hand so he can work as he rests. 

 

“I’ll be back in two hours to discuss the Sithkiller attack plan,” Kylo informs him.

 

But that timetable turns out to be far too optimistic.  After two hours, Hux is still in no shape to participate in a meeting.  So Kylo decides to take matters into his own hands.  Literally. He marches past Mrs. Faris to barge in on Hux.

 

“Wake up.  I’m here to heal you,” Kylo announces.  And does he sound resigned?   Because he feels resigned.  Vitiate sends him Hux as reinforcements but the guy is too weak to help.  And now, healing Hux gets added to Kylo’s already overflowing to-do list. 

 

Hux rears back in alarm at the offer.  “I’ll stick to the trained medics.”

 

“I’m going to heal you with the Force.  The medics can’t do that.”

 

Hux blinks.  “I didn’t know anyone could do that.”  His eyes narrow with suspicion. “Is this some Jedi thing?  Because your boss didn’t try to heal me.”

 

“Yes.  It’s a Jedi practice.”

 

“Well then, no thanks.”

 

“I’m doing this.”  Kylo is not taking no for an answer.  “I can’t have you sleeping half the day.  I need you fully functional.”    Kylo sucks up his pride and admits, “I need your help.”

 

Hux looks somewhat smug but still reluctant.

 

So Kylo grovels further. “The Empire needs your help.  It’s time to save the galaxy, Grand Moff Hux.”

 

“Well, when you put it that way . . . ” His patient reconsiders.  “Is this going to hurt?”

 

“It shouldn’t.”

 

“Okay then.  Give it a try,” Hux relents. 

 

“Take your shirt off.”

 

“What??”

 

“Just take your shirt off.”

 

Hux scowls but complies.  Kylo sees now why his new Moff is self-conscious.  His chest and torso are a roadmap of ugly still-red surgical scars. 

 

“Ouch,” Kylo reacts.

 

“Quit gawking,” Hux snaps.

 

Kylo nods and summons the Force.  Then he lays his palms flat on Hux’s skinny, scarred chest and begins to heal him.

 

Hux looks askance at his posture.  “Is this necessary?”  He’s acting like Kylo is some creepy child predator out to molest him.  “Do you have to touch me to do this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you certain?   Very certain?”

 

Kylo shoots him a look. “I don’t like this either.”

 

“You had better not like this!” Hux fumes.  “Ren, I like girls.  I only like girls.”

 

“Shut up.  I need to concentrate.”

 

“If your hands go lower, it’s treason.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

Kylo concentrates harder.  This is far more difficult than healing Rey’s training bruises and sore muscles.  Beyond the awkwardness of the intimacy involved, Hux is far more hurt than Rey had ever been.  Kylo tries to relax.  To sink deeper into the Force.  To suspend his sense of the here and now and blur his self with the universe.  He seeks to become a conduit for the Force, to be its passive instrument.  This is the crux of the Jedi healing techniques Kylo learned from Vader’s holochrons.  The goal is less to control the Force than it is to get out of its way.   For the nature of the Force is to heal and persevere.  Because on a fundamental level, the Force is life.   It is resilient.  It endures.  And it promotes those qualities in those it heals. 

 

Kylo is sweating now from the effort.   Finally, he relents and jerks his hands away and his mind back. “That’s enough,” he pants. 

 

“That’s better.   Wow.   That’s a lot better,” Hux nods.   He looks amazed.

 

“Good,” exhausted Kylo exhales.   And now, dammit, he’s the one who needs a nap.   But there’s no time for that.  “Let’s get to work.”  Kylo summons his staff.

 

Half an hour later, it becomes clear that all the Death Star attack planning to date has been a waste of time.  Because when Kylo assembles his top aides at Hux’s bedside to present the two battle plans under consideration, Hux is unimpressed.  In fact, he keeps his eyes closed the whole time.

 

“Is he asleep?” someone asks dubiously in a loud whisper.

 

“He’s awake,” Kylo confirms. 

 

Hux opens one eye to prove it.   “Are we done yet?”

 

“I was just getting to phase three of the second attack plan,” the miffed presenter answers. 

 

“Forget that.  Here’s my plan,” Hux interrupts.  His eyes are closed again.  “Phase One, we drop a fleet out of hyperspace to get things started.   We can go with your dreadnought setup.  That’s fine.  But add some more firepower.  Once the battle has everyone engaged, we launch Phase Two.”

 

“What’s Phase Two?” Kylo asks.

 

“You get in a ship and go blow it up.  You know, go find that small thermal exhaust port right below the main port. And then it’s bombs away.”

 

“We fixed that flaw,” one of the engineering analysts bristles.

 

“Fine.   Ren goes to nail whatever starts the chain reaction to blow the weapon.”

 

“The kyber crystals in the big dish,” Kylo supplies the target. 

 

“But Ren can’t get in a ship,” his scandalized chief of staff objects.

 

Hux disagrees. “Why not?   If Darth Vader can defend his Death Star in a fighter, Ren can blow one up.  It’s practically a family tradition,” Hux points out with the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“It’s too dangerous.”

 

Kylo takes umbrage at that remark.  “Have you seen me fly?” he retorts.  “I’m the best starpilot in the galaxy.”  That’s not bragging.  That’s the truth.

 

Hux intercedes now.  “Ren’s a magical Skywalker.  They don’t die easily.  Besides, it takes a Skywalker to kill a Skywalker, and Jerard is no Skywalker. Right?”  Hux opens one eye again and fixes it on Kylo. “Jerard’s not your long-lost big brother, is he?”

 

“Nope.  I’ll do it,” Kylo volunteers, shutting down the discussion. Because if his father, his uncle, and his mother can all take out Death Stars, he can too.   This is one rite of passage he might as well complete.  In fact, at age thirty-five, he might already be a bit overdue.

 

“Good.  Then it’s done.  When do we launch?”

 

“How soon will you be well enough to command the battle from the flagship?” Kylo asks his new Moff. It’s a serious question. Kylo wants his most experienced general in command if he himself will be in a ship doing the fighting instead giving orders.   Plus, on the off chance he dies, Kylo needs his second in command to be up to the task of leading.  The Empire must go on even if he’s gone. 

 

Hux opens both eyes now. “How soon can I get some more of that magic Force healing?”

 

“Any time,” Kylo offers quickly.

 

“Alright, then assemble the fleet.   We jump in forty-eight hours.  Give me some more Force, some stim shots, and a chair on the bridge and I’m good.   Let’s blow this thing and go home.”

 

“It’s a plan,” Kylo agrees. 

 

Shockingly, the simple battle plan executes flawlessly.  Kylo takes the big shot in his TIE Interceptor and the weapon blows just as predicted. 

 

The shockwave the blast creates throws Kylo hard back in his cockpit seat, but the real impact is to his mind.  It’s not as bad as the destruction of Hosnia felt, but it’s still bad.  The sensation of so much simultaneous death in the Force is awful.  The feeling stays with him.  Even as Kylo triumphantly claims a much-needed victory, he is subdued.  The rush of adrenaline from combat fades fast.  In the wake of the battle, he feels more relief than elation. 

 

The strategic threat of the super weapon is eradicated.  The Empire’s losses for the mission are acceptable.  All in all, it’s a true win.  But it’s a pyrrhic victory.  It is a galling irony that the weapon he destroyed is the weapon he built.   All those tax dollars and man hours are wasted.  All those lives are needlessly lost.  This civil war has reduced Kylo to attacking his own assets.  On some level, it’s just plain humiliating.  

 

Moreover, the entire episode demonstrates just how much things have changed.  Kylo originally intended the Sithkiller to be used against his enemy Vitiate who is now his sometime ally.  But the weapon was seized by his former ally General Jerard who is now his enemy.  Friend or foe?  That’s always the big question.  Kylo is starting to think that he’s got a bad track record on those determinations.  Because from Rey to Hux to Vitiate, he keeps getting it wrong.  Or maybe, he gets it right but he and everyone else continue to evolve as events unfold and allegiances shift.

 

Ultimately, Kylo decides that he is fed up with destruction. This is not how he wants to lead the galaxy.  He wants to build things, not tear them down. To unify the local systems, not pit them against each other.  To persuade with insightful ideas and good policies, rather than with violence.  But given the current wartime context, those objections feel out of reach.  It makes Kylo feel typecast and stymied.  Stuck in his Dark warlord image he worked for years to create but cannot seem to transcend.  He wonders now whether this is the cosmic Force laughing at him.  Because he seems to have become a strange mix of his Rebellion-era underdog terrorist mother and his Imperial enforcer grandfather.  Suddenly, being the mighty Kylo Ren feels limiting and unsatisfying.  It’s not enough anymore to rule the galaxy.  He wants to rule it well.  But unless he can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy, he will never achieve that goal.

 

Kylo cannot ignore the continuing harsh realities of the war.   Coruscant might be safe now from the fate of Alderaan, but the Mid Rim and most of the Outer Rim remain in enemy hands.  While Kylo continues to hold the galaxy’s Core unopposed, that seems more a consequence of Jerard’s seeming disinterest in invading it.   But surely the enemy general knows what Kylo knows—that the urbane, cosmopolitan Core is heavily dependent on the rest of the galaxy for everything from building materials to foodstuffs to fuel.  The interconnected economy Kylo’s policies fostered has now become a major strategic weakness.   It would take little firepower to implement a siege of the Core.  Jerard could simply starve the rich worlds of the galaxy into submission.

 

And so, despite today’s showy victory, Kylo is in a very bad mood.   He doesn’t jump back to Coruscant in Hux’s flagship.  Instead, he takes his TIE Interceptor on a detour to nearby Mustafar.   Darth Vitiate is there.  Kylo can sense his presence.  But his father-in-law declines to confront him on the landing pad.  So Kylo marches into his ancestral castle and heads downstairs to the medical wing.   He pushes past the medics who attempt to intercept him and makes his way to the darkened room at the end of the corridor where Rey lies in state in her bacta tank. 

 

Yes, it’s as he feared.  She’s still dead. 

 

Kylo knows what to expect this time.  He is not shaken and repulsed like before.  If anything, the sight of Rey brings some comfort.  It’s a little like sitting with Vader’s mask.   Some might consider it macabre, but for Kylo it’s a kind of closeness.  It’s not ideal, if course, but it’s the only tangible connection he has left to these lost loved ones.  Frankly, it’s far less creepy than it is desperate.  And as long as Rey’s body is kept here in stasis, there is at least hope for her to be revived. 

 

But Kylo is getting frustrated.  What is taking Vitiate so long?  Kylo is tempted to take matters into his own hands like he did with Hux.

 

Can Kylo still heal Rey’s body in this current state?  He doesn’t know. Force healing, Kylo has learned, comes as much from the injured as from the healer.  The living Force in Kylo mingles and unites with the living Force in his patient. Kylo’s strength and vigor flows through them both as he heals.  But can you heal a dead person whose Force has left them?   Can his Force suffice for both him and Rey?   It gets Kylo wondering just how close his Light Side Force healing is to Vitiate’s Dark Side revival.  If the Force is the Force, then maybe there are multiple ways to resurrect someone. 

 

He stares now into the tank at his doomed wife.  What is taking Vitiate so long to bring back Rey? 

 

Frustrated Kylo decides to give it a shot himself.  He raises a hand to the tank glass and summons the Force.  And that’s when old Darth Vitiate bellows “STOP!” from behind.  Kylo throws his head over his shoulder to see the ancient Sith storming down the corridor towards him fast.  Two official looking men in white coats follow on his heels.  They must have summoned their Master at Kylo’s arrival.  Honestly, Kylo is a little surprised it took Darth Vitiate this long to get here.  He must have been disturbed deep in meditation.  

 

Again, Darth Vitiate bellows, “STOP!”  Kylo doesn’t even see the lightning that sweeps him off his feet.  But he opens his eyes to see his glowering old Master hiss at him, “I forbid it!”

 


	55. Chapter 55

“Stop!  I forbid it!”

 

Lord Vitiate hollers these words as he looms over Kylo sprawled on the floor in the dim room of Darth Vader’s castle where Rey’s body lies in stasis.  “You’re bonded to her!  You will drain yourself—maybe even kill yourself—and do nothing to help her!”  Vitiate is venting now as his jaw sets in a hard line.  He looks dismayed, relieved, and angry all at the same time.  

 

Gasping Kylo glares up at his sometime-ally, sometime-foe with sullen dislike.  “You underestimate my power!” he counters hotly, feeling dissed.  “If you won’t help her, then I will!”

 

“No!  You won’t.  Listen to me!”  Vitiate is ranting now and it’s very unlike him to show this much reckless emotion.  “Trust me, for I have experimented plenty through the years. Resurrecting the dead is not a beginner’s task.  These are feats for which the Force must be coaxed and sometimes fooled.  The truly Dark arts are dangerous,” he warns sternly, wagging a finger over Kylo’s nose. “This is sorcery, you fool, not warfare.  You know nothing of these skills!”

 

“Fine,” Kylo relents, the resentment showing on his face and in his tone.  “Then you wake her up.”

 

The Sith Emperor turns away to look at his daughter floating still and quiet in the gently gurgling bacta tank.  He shakes his head and mutters bitterly, “You should not have come back.  I told you that you are not welcome here.”

 

Kylo picks himself off the floor but stubbornly refuses to budge from the room. He turns now to the two men in white coats who followed Vitiate in.  Kylo dismisses them curtly.  “Leave.”

 

That provokes a response from somber Vitiate.  He whirls. “You are the one who needs to leave.   Go back to Coruscant where you can do some good,” his old Master hisses.  “There’s nothing for you here.”

 

Kylo responds by jabbing a finger at the tank before them.  “She is here!  She’s my wife!”

 

That sets the Sith off again.  “Your wife who you divorced and exiled?  Your wife who you deserted while pregnant?”  Darth Vitiate crescendos as he continues, ending at another deafening bellow. “Your wife who you left unprotected for your enemies to slaughter??” 

 

He lets that last word hang in the air a moment before he reveals, “I read Hux’s mind.  I saw the whole thing. She was running with a sword in one hand and her newborn baby in the other.  Desperate to live!   Where were you then?” Vitiate jeers.  He is livid and it shows.  This is the confrontation he and his old Master would have had last time Kylo was at the castle had they not declared an unspoken truce to deal with the enemy’s ruse to return Carl.  But that’s over now.  It’s past time to have it out between them over Rey.

 

“Where was all this devotion and care when she needed it?” Emperor Vitiate sneers.  “You are too late, Apprentice!   And now, you must deal with the consequences.”

 

Kylo has no good defense other than that he and Rey have always had a complicated relationship.  And lately, those complications are mostly due to his father-in-law who currently berates him.   But knowing he needs less conflict with Vitiate, not more, Kylo tries to be conciliatory.  He stands down to take some heat out of the situation.  He’s plenty sorry for what has happened but that’s beside the point.  “I can’t change any of that now.  But I can heal her.   I want to heal her.   Revive Rey and let me help.”

 

“No.”  

 

“No??”

 

Vitiate sighs and looks away.  “Get out.”   And it occurs to Kylo for the first time that the ancient Sith looks very rattled.  He’s far less in control in this confrontation than usual.  He looks uncertain.  Tentative.  Uncomfortable.  Is this caused by the jarring evidence of his daughter’s death displayed in front of them?   Or is this something else?  Looking closely at his troubled mentor, Kylo senses something new.  Vitiate feels vulnerable.  He’s gruffly covering it with anger.

 

“You can’t do it, can you?” Kylo accuses softly. 

 

Vitiate is stung.  He meets Kylo’s eyes squarely and maintains, “I can do it.”

 

“But you can’t do it without my help,” Kylo concludes.  His help that proud Vitiate keeps refusing.   Rey remains dead because of old Emperor Vitiate’s spite. 

 

“I can do it,” his old Master repeats stubbornly.   Defensively.  “It would be easier and better for her if you helped.  But I can do it myself with the medics.  She would be fine,” he mutters.  “Just fine.”

 

“Well, I am here and I will help,” Kylo grinds out.  What’s the hold up?   He and Vitiate need to put aside their differences for the sake of Rey.   This is like finding Carl and getting along with Hux.  Because sometimes you have to keep a larger goal in mind and tolerate people you have conflicts with.  You can’t fight everyone all of the time.  Maturity and adversity have taught Kylo to pick his battles.

 

Vitiate does not reply.  His prolonged silence frustrates Kylo.

 

“Let’s do this.   Now.   Together.”  With the Sithkiller gone, Kylo now has a major strategic victory.  It gives him some breathing room to spend a few days here on Mustafar.

 

Vitiate still does not reply.   He’s gone back to staring at Rey in the tank, looking very forlorn.  It’s clear that he grieves her.  But as the conversation continues, it’s apparent that Vitiate is haunted not by his dead daughter but by another woman in his past. 

 

Still looking at the tank, his Master reveals, “I can do it.  But I’m not sure I should do it.”

 

Wait, what??  Kylo glares indignantly at his old Master.  And suddenly, he is very scared.  He doesn’t like where this is heading.

 

Darth Vitiate turns back to contemplate Rey again.  The lights in the room are very dim, making her a shadowy figure in her tank.  It’s easy to imagine Rey as a spectral apparition, as some shade returned from the netherworld of the Force. But she is flesh and blood woman and she deserves to live.  Can’t Vitiate see that?

 

When the ultimate Sith resumes speaking, his voice is subdued and deliberate.  And not once does he look at his Apprentice. “There is a reason I use this power infrequently.   It is unnatural, Kylo Ren.  Death is the way of things.  It is the way of the Force.”

 

“I don’t care!” Kylo exclaims. 

 

“She might.”

 

Something in the way Vitiate says this gives Kylo pause.   But then he doubles down on his assertion. “I don’t care!”

 

“That sentiment is the crux of the matter, Apprentice.  To be unwilling to let go at any cost is inherently selfish.  It is possessive.  To want it all without limits and without consequences makes this resurrection more about you and less about Rey.  It’s why this power to give life anew is ultimately Dark, and not Light.  Resurrection is never about the dead, it is always about the desires of the living.”

 

Kylo shakes his head.   He’s in no mood for this lecture.  “She was a survivor.   She wanted to live.”

 

Vitiate nods but keeps talking. “I was still fairly young when I discovered this power.   In my earliest days, I was obsessed with immortality.  I feared death for myself.   But in time, quite by accident, I learned to love.   And that was when I learned to fear death for others.  To fear how their loss would affect me.”

 

“What are you saying?” Kylo prompts impatiently. 

 

But Lord Vitiate will not be rushed.  “True love means considering others as well as yourself.  Sometimes even considering others before yourself.” 

 

Kylo makes a face.  He fails to see the relevance of these greeting card platitudes.  But finally, Vitiate gets to the punchline:  “I love my daughter.  And that is why I am not certain that I should revive her.”

 

Kylo has heard enough prevarication. “Do it!    Do it now!” he snarls.

 

“The first person I ever revived was a woman I loved.   I was desperate with remorse after I killed her in a jealous rage.  I wanted to make amends for the act.  To turn back time and pretend it never happened.   I foolishly thought that it would be like she had fallen ill and then recovered.  That I could erase the permanence and meaning of her death.  That I would awake my sleeping beauty with a kiss and she would love me again . . . ”  His voice trails off a moment before he resumes. “Resurrecting her was my greatest achievement in the Force and the greatest mistake of my life.   It was all downhill from there.”  Vitiate looks humbled now.  “I didn’t stop to think through what I was doing.  I just did it to do it.  My grief blinded me . . .”

 

Kylo can’t quite believe what he is hearing.  Vitiate’s hypocrisy has him enraged.  “Oh, so you were fine to revive Rey in exchange for me letting you out of Mortis, but now you have scruples?  Now that it’s not my decision alone?   Is that it?”  He is outraged.   “Now you don’t want the responsibility?  Now??”

 

“You wanted to know how balancing the Force has affected me?   Well, now you know.   This,” Darth Vitiate says solemnly, “is the Light in me.”

 

Kylo explodes.  “You sanctimonious fucker!   You will not take her from me!”  He can’t do this!

 

Darth Vitiate still speaks turned away.  His voice is soft and full of sympathy. “I know exactly how you feel.  I have lived how you feel long ago.”

 

“Bring her back!”  He can’t do this!   He can’t dangle the hope of Rey alive and then snatch it away. 

 

Vitiate starts listing reasons now. “She will wake to a raging war.  To all the Resistance ideals she fought for trampled.”

 

“She can help us win.  And help us change,“ Kylo protests.  Rey can be a Senator again if she wants.  Or his consort.  Whatever she wishes.  But she will have his ear to implement her values.

 

“She will wake to the news that her son is lost.  She will wake to a painful and scarred body that will be incapable of having more children.”

 

“She will be alive!   We will have each other!”  The baby was an accident, after all.  Carl was never planned in the first place.

 

Vitiate raises an eyebrow at his sentiment. “She will wake to a husband who spurned her and exiled her.”

 

“That’s in the past!”

 

“No, it is not.  Just because you get your happy ending with Rey revived does not mean she will feel the same way about you.   Trust me, every problem you had before will still exist plus some new ones when she awakes.”

 

It’s been a hard day of highs and lows, and Kylo has reached his limit.  He’s done with arguing, it’s time for action.  Kylo now grabs Darth Vitiate physically by the collar and slams the man hard against the nearest wall.  Kylo has an inch or two on his great grandfather but the Sith is the more solid man. Still, they are a roughly equal physical match.  Yet strangely enough, his old Master does nothing to resist Kylo’s escalation.  He just takes it passively, and that’s very unexpected.   The Snoke he knew would be frying him with Force lightning or laying on the Vader choke.  Not looking at him with naked pity in his eyes.  Compassion was never the way of his old Master.  It is disconcerting.

 

“I have fought for you.  I have killed for you.  You owe me this!” Kylo growls in Vitiate’s face.  He twists his grip tighter now. 

 

And still, Darth Vitiate remains calm and accepting.  “Kylo Ren, you are as much a son to me as Rey is a daughter.  Maybe more so since I raised you for years.   I am trying to save you from making my same mistakes.  When you actually get to parent a child, you will understand.”

 

But he doesn’t understand.  Because as far as Kylo can tell, his family makes the same mistakes over and over again.  What’s one more if it means Rey lives?  Whatever their problems are, he and Rey can work them out in time.  Because they are true love and love conquers all.  Because they are destiny and all things are possible in the Force.  Because she too is a Chosen One and his equal in all things that matter.

 

“Maybe it’s best to let her go,” Vitiate suggests quietly. 

 

But Kylo won’t hear of it.  “No . . . ”  He releases his grip and stalks across the room with a look of despair on his face.  He is rattled, very rattled.  Running a hand through his hair and down his face as he shoots his father-in-law dirty looks. 

 

Vitiate tries to be positive.  “We can search for Carl.  He’s alive somewhere.  If we work together, I am certain we can find him.”

 

“No . . .”

 

“Together, we are the ultimate power in the universe.   No one who opposes us will win,” Vitiate assures him. 

 

Whatever.  Kylo turns away.  Being the ultimate power in the universe hasn’t felt especially fulfilling of late.  In fact, his current responsibilities are daunting.  It has him questioning everything.  Because what’s the point of all of this if he is forever alone?    A peaceful, prosperous Empire seems small consolation for a lifetime of loneliness and regret.  Rey is it for him.  She won’t ever be replaced.  Fuck, Kylo thinks, as he casts his eyes about his grandfather’s castle.  He really is becoming Vader all over again.

 

Vitiate now observes pointedly, “You were willing to let her go before.   Nothing has changed.”

 

Kylo looks up and scowls. Because as far as he is concerned, everything has changed now that Vitiate is out.   “She was the sacrifice that would keep you in jail!” Kylo hisses. “That’s no longer a concern.  So, I want her back.”

 

“Let her go.”  His old Master encourages him again softly, “It’s best to let her go.”

 

“No!” he retorts.  “No, I’ll take the risk of whatever happens when she wakes.”   Kylo feels confident it will work out in the end.  And however it turns out, it’s better than Rey being dead.  But now he is curious about why Vitiate feels this way.   “What aren’t you telling me?” he demands.  Suddenly, he wants to know the whole story. “What happened to your wife you resurrected?”

 

“She was another man’s wife.”

 

“What happened?” Kylo asks again, unwilling to be put off. 

 

“We had more problems, not less.”

 

“And?”

 

“It didn’t work out.”

 

“What does that mean?” Kylo probes at Vitiate’s repeated evasions. 

 

The Sith Emperor sighs heavily as he reveals, “She killed herself.”  From the look on his face, it’s clear Darth Vitiate has no desire to elaborate further.  “I had learned my lesson by then.  I did not revive her a second time.”

 

“Rey would never do that.”   Kylo is absolutely certain. 

 

“Trust me, I didn’t see it coming either.”  Vitiate shoots Kylo a warning look.  “At the time, I was far too concerned with myself.  With how I felt about things.”

 

“You must revive her!” Kylo maintains.  “I need her,” he wails with humiliating candor.  “We need her,” he argues further.  He and Vitiate will never get along without Rey between them as the buffer and tie-breaker.  They’ll be at each other’s throats constantly without her influence.

 

“I don’t know . . . ”  Truly, his old Master looks torn about the decision.  It helps to explain why he has kept Rey’s body here with all the medics.  Vitiate himself isn’t sure what to do, and it shows. 

 

So Kylo presses again.  “We need her.  Don’t you miss her?  I miss her.”

 

Vitiate looks away.  “That’s not the point."

 

“Rey is the best source we have on what happened to Carl.   Wake her up and let’s ask her,” Kylo pleads. 

 

Vitiate shakes his head.  “Subjects seldom remember much of their last moments when they awake.  Even if she did remember, she’s likely to tell us that they took the baby.   There was no time for her to hide him or hand him off.  Carl was in her arms when they executed Hux.  She was already wounded on the ground with the child in her arms.”

 

Recalling now the baby crying in the background of Hux’s execution holovid, Kylo has to concede to his Master’s reasoning.  He needs to find Jerard’s men who were in the temple in order to start tracing the whereabouts of his baby.   But still . . .   “It might help.”

 

“Maybe we could revive her once we find Carl . . .” Vitiate proposes half-heartedly.

 

“Fine.”  Kylo accepts automatically. 

 

But Vitiate starts making conditions. “And, you must give her the option of leaving you.”

 

“What??”

 

“She doesn’t owe either of us her life for this.  She must be free to choose her future.  Even if it means a future without you.”

 

“What??”   That’s not how Kylo envisions things at all.

 

Again, he gets a warning look of experience from Vitiate. “Don’t make the mistake I did.”

 

“Fine.”   Kylo isn’t in a position to bargain.   He’ll take what he can get.  “We find the baby and then you revive Rey with my help.”

 

Vitiate nods but then he makes a bold ask.  “When you catch Jerard, he is mine.”

 

Kylo meets his old Master’s eyes and growls, “You can get in line.”

 

“I insist.”  There is a sudden flicker of yellow in the ancient Dark Master’s eyes as he reminds his Apprentice, “I was Sith for millennia.  I know more about pain than any man alive.  No one can make Jerard suffer like I can.”

 

He says it like a promise.  And then his old Master steps closer now as he holds Kylo’s gaze intently. “I alone know the extreme limits of life, how to keep someone barely alive and to revive them for more abuse.  You can’t die on me as a prisoner,” the Sith purrs, “I won’t let you.  Three hundred years I spent with Revan,” he reminds Kylo.  And now, Vitiate’s eyes are a bright gleaming gold, like a predator stalking his prey in the night.  Whatever tempering Light this old Sith found within him to balance the Force, it evidently does not extend to Rey’s killer.  In this matter, the man is thoroughly Dark.

 

Recalling now what Kylo lately tends to forget—that Carl Tenebrae, Dark Lord Vitiate, Emperor of the Sith and Eternal Emperor of Zakuul was the most heinous Dark Side killer who ever lived, a man who enslaved and destroyed entire worlds with his armies, his plots, and the Force—Kylo decides that Bin-Salman Jerard will be in good hands. Who hurts Jerard matters less than that the man hurts.  

 

“He must pay for what he has done to our family,” Vitiate vows with baleful eyes.

 

Kylo nods his assent.  “Alright.  You can have him.  But leave something for me to kill.”

 

“Very well.  We will both get our revenge.”

 

 


	56. chapter 56

With the Sithkiller super weapon gone, there will be no quick, easy win to the war. Neither side will be able to crush its foe in one swift stroke without a Death Star. That means it's time to dig in and hunker down, time for small scale battles that are creeping steps towards a larger campaign, and time for the hard slog of a protracted, bitter conflict. It's the Clone Wars all over again, the media glumly declares, and everyone adjusts their expectations accordingly.

We are two years from victory at a minimum, Hux bemoans behind closed doors, but probably more like four. And that's provided there is no game changing event in the meantime to tip the balance towards either side. Kylo reluctantly concedes to the wisdom of his Grand Moff's assessment. Hux isn't being pessimistic, Kylo knows. He's being realistic.

A long war presents logistical challenges. It's a big galaxy and in order to keep up multiple active war fronts, Kylo needs more men, arms, and ships than he has. And those men, arms, and ships need food, fuel, and munitions Kylo will quickly run short of. All those peacetime military budget cuts and personnel reductions he made are coming back to haunt him. Worse still, his Empire's key military resources—from its stormtrooper training facilities, to its shipyards, to its stockpiles of supplies and provisions—are mostly located behind enemy lines. That needs to change if Kylo is going to win.

So he closets himself with his advisors and plots a new strategy. The priority is to obtain their immediate needs to keep the Imperial war machine running: munitions and hyperfuel. Forget subduing entire worlds to get the stuff, Kylo decides. We steal it.

"Steal it?" Hux chokes.

Kylo nods. "We'll use old Rebellion era tactics. The rebels never had a territorial strategy to gain resources. They stole their ships and supplies. All those X-wings that blew up the Death Star were originally Imperial ships," he reminds everyone.

"We are the Empire. Jerard and his goons are the Rebellion," indignant Hux maintains as a point of pride. He clearly resents Kylo's analogy.

Whatever. "The labels don't matter," Kylo dismisses this concern. More and more, Kylo finds himself dispensing with labels and categories, whether it's the Force or his Empire. "All that matters is that we win. We don't have the time or the ability to launch major offensives on all those worlds to get what we need." Kylo gestures to the star map projected on the wall behind him that shows ten systems critical to the war effort. "We don't need to control the source of the raw materials short term. We just need the finished products."

"It's unorthodox," a dissenting admiral huffs. Kylo knows his sentiment is shared by others around the table. For these First Order top brass are men who revere institutions. They advocate best practices and follow the chain of command. They swear oaths they keep and they believe Snoke's neo-Imperialist dogma. This mindset is, of course, all in furtherance of the cause of order. But it can have a chilling effect on independent thinking. Kylo's increasingly contrarian, almost iconoclast, views make him a bit of a maverick in this context. But he doesn't care. Kylo shrugs. "If it works . . . "

Unlike his inner circle, Leader Ren is committed to being flexible. The Old Republic languished during the Clone Wars in part because it was hamstrung by its scruples and traditional military thinking. The Old Empire fell to a much smaller, more nimble rebel force that successfully used its bulk and bureaucracy against it. Kylo plans to learn from those examples. He will do the unexpected, fighting like the underdog instead of the establishment status quo. None of Jerard's guys are going to expect it. Because they too are of the same mindset.

Kylo is actually perfectly suited to these old school Rebellion tactics. He grew up listening to enough war stories from his terrorist mother and rebel uncle to know how guerrilla raids work. Plus, he's Han Solo's son, so he knows a thing or two about improvising in a tight spot. And, well, his small-time criminal father did plenty of stealing in his day. Kylo Ren is as much the heir to those dubious legacies as he is the heir to the Force traditions of the Jedi and the Sith. It's time to put those lowbrow talents to good use, he decides.

From across the table, Hux nods slowly as he digests Kylo's strategy. Moff Hux is considerably less pedantic and far more creative than the rest of Kylo's high command. Sickly as he is, Hux has been a welcome addition to the team. It's a bit galling, but lately it has occurred to Kylo that he and Hux are far more alike than different. Their distinctions are more stylistic than substantive. More personality than pith. "So we need to plan a series of supply raids?" Hux concludes.

"Yes. And whatever we don't steal, we destroy." That's Kylo's new spin on the old strategy. He will scorch the earth to leave his enemy scrambling for resources just like he is. Because whatever supplies Kylo can't take for his own use, he will make sure cannot be used against him. Kylo warms to his new ploy as he orders all the First Order shipyards, maintenance facilities, and training camps in enemy hands to be destroyed.

"But we've told the Empire we will be liberating our worlds that are in enemy hands," that same admiral complains.

"We aren't breaking those promises. We are deferring them," Kylo answers. "Once we sufficiently cripple their supply chain, we can reconsider taking back territory. But for now, we steal and destroy to level the playing field."

Army Hux now openly alludes to Kylo's background, which no one else ever does. He's grinning conspiratorially at Kylo. "Ren, every now and then, I am reminded that you are the spawn of rebel scum."

Kylo smirks and points out, "The rebels won. And so will we." He looks around the room, noting several disapproving faces. "Anyone going to defect to the enemy over this?" he asks. It's a serious question. Luckily, everyone immediately disavows any such intention. "Good," Kylo approves. "Once we change up the situation, we can reassess things." He nods over at the dissenting admiral at the end of the table. "I like your plan to bring the war to Jerard in the Mid Rim. But we're not ready for that just yet."

Kylo stands to take his leave. Everyone else stands in respect as well. "Put me in a cockpit for the shipyards missions. I want in on the action," he instructs. Like General Skywalker in the Clone Wars, Kylo Ren will lead his troops personally into battle.

Next, Kylo drops in unannounced on a meeting of his spymasters. He adds a new task to their list of objectives. Find me the men who executed the hit on Hux, he orders. They did not originate from the local Naboo garrison. Those men were a separate team deployed to assassinate his Chancellor and his wife. All that Hux remembers is that there was a cruiser involved, and that's not much to go on.

I want them alive, Kylo specifies sternly. I will interrogate them myself. Those men are the only link he has to his lost son. He has to find them if there will be any hope of resurrecting Rey. But remembering now that even a dead man is not an impediment given Vitiate's special talents, Kylo orders that in the event of death for any of the targets, their bodies be retrieved. Because in this case at least, dead men might tell tales.

"Put a bounty on those guys," Kylo amends his orders on the fly as he gets up to leave. Because, why not?

His unorthodox suggestion meets with resistance. "Bounty hunters?" his lead intel officer recoils. "We don't need their scum."

"Lord Vader did. It's how he caught my father and my uncle at Bespin," Kylo reveals. He looks around the room at the skeptical faces and reminds everyone, "We need all the help we can get. And remember, I want them alive or I want their bodies. No disintegrations."

A week later, the supply raids commence. They are planned with multiple operations occurring nearly simultaneously to blunt the severity of the enemy's response. Each raid also becomes something of a diversion for the others. The tactic works well the first time, so Kylo replicates it again. Only this time, he participates. He personally helps to destroy the First Order shipyards on Dantooine and then on neighboring Bastion.

These raids aren't nearly as important as the Sithkiller mission, so Kylo takes the opportunity to try out his battle meditation skills he has practiced. That trick still needs some work, but Kylo isn't giving up yet. He knows the Force is like a muscle. It needs to be flexed and used to be maintained and improved. Challenges are a good thing.

He is returning from those two successful missions when an aide finds him with welcome good news. The surviving members of the special ops strike team that did the hit on Hux have been apprehended. A tip from Kylo's embedded loyalists in the enemy camp yielded information that led to their transport being interdicted and captured on the way to a mission.

When the prisoners finally arrive to Coruscant, Kylo looks them over, pacing the row of twelve men. "Which one of you killed Hux?" he growls.

Silence.

"I'll ask one more time. Which one of you killed Hux?" Kylo yells. His temper is barely held in check. For these are the men who hunted and killed his wife along with his Chancellor. Kylo is lusting for revenge.

A man at the end of the line steps forward. He poses at perfect military attention, chin up and eyes forward despite his handcuffs. Then, he answers, "The Corporal who ordered the execution is dead. He was following orders, but he did the right thing."

Kylo stalks over to stare down the prisoner. Usually, that alone intimidates. But not this traitor. He must know he will die because he is reckless with his words. "I don't know how you cloned him so fast, but Hux was dead. Very dead. And soon, so will you be. You pretender." Then, the prisoner has the effrontery to spit on him. Because truly, these zealots have no manners.

"I see you have a death wish," Kylo observes, ignoring the offensive gesture. His palm is itching to light his saber, but he resists. Instead, he indulges in a war of words. "You are an unrepentant true believer. I suppose I should admire that diehard spirit. But I don't. I didn't like it in the Resistance and I don't like it in you traitors."

The man nods slowly. "I am unrepentant. This only thing I'm sorry about is that I'm going to get killed by you."

"I regret to disappoint you," Kylo smirks back, "but this is not going to go the way you think." Up walks Moff Hux in the flesh now. It's perfect timing. "Recognize this guy?" Kylo points to the prisoner. "He was there when they executed you. They all were."

Hux curls his lip as he assesses the captives. "Taking them to the boss?"

"Yes."

"Who's the boss?" the mouthy prisoner asks warily.

"Snoke," Hux answers smugly as he exchanges looks with Kylo.

The prisoner blinks and frowns. Kylo enjoys his confusion. "There's always a bigger fish," he confides with equal parts menace and relish.

"Snoke is dead," the defiant prisoner maintains.

Hux nods and grins. "So am I."

"Me too," Kylo chimes in, not to be left out. "Now, what happened to the baby?" Enough with the posturing. Kylo wants information.

"That brat is dead."

"No, he's not. What happened to the baby?" Kylo growls again.

"I killed him."

"I know you're lying," Kylo warns. "I grow tired of asking, so this will be the last time. What happened to the baby?"

"He's gone," the prisoner answers simply and it has the ring of truth to it. That's troubling.

Hux is impatient. "Just read his mind, Ren."

Kylo nods but defers the task. "I will when I get them to Snoke."

"Snoke is dead! You killed him!" the prisoner accuses.

Hux sniffs, "Too bad for you he's not."

Kylo piles on as he promises, "You're going to wish that I had killed you."

Kylo orders the prisoners taken to Mustafar. He's confident that collectively their memories will hold the answers he needs to find Carl. The problem is the other things their memories will hold. And that is what's keeping Kylo from doing his usual mental interrogation while enroute.

He doesn't want to see Rey desperate and in pain like Darth Vitiate had described.

He doesn't want to see his baby son for the very first time as he is ripped from his dying mother's arms.

He dreads seeing Rey executed. Kylo knows he will lose it when he sees that.

He can't be objective about this matter. He's far too personally involved, apt to react with extreme emotion instead of the calm reason he knows he should. And that means he could miss important clues. It's why he wants Darth Vitiate to do this interrogation with him. Plus, he can turn this crew over to his aggrieved father-in-law for punishment afterwards. These guys can be the warmup act for when Kylo finally captures General Jerard.

He sends word of his arrival ahead to Mustafar Castle. As planned, Darth Vitiate marches out to meet the transport on the landing platform as Snoke's projection. Kylo grins at the reaction that reveal elicits from the prisoners. Then he and 'Snoke' get down to business.

The interrogations are as hard as he feared. Because when you view people's memories, you perceive their attitudes and reactions as well. So when he sees memories of Rey die, he also experiences the callous disregard, the grim satisfaction, and even the misogynist glee of the perpetrators. It makes it worse. Kylo has to stomp outside the room twice to keep from drawing his sword for some on the spot justice.

He learns that Rey did not die easily. And she died Dark. In a surprise move, Rey fries with Force lightning the trooper who tries to take Carl and orders her execution. Everyone is so shocked by the act that they are all looking at the smoking trooper when Rey does whatever she did to hide Carl. Not one of the prisoners turns out to have been watching Rey at the critical moment. Each man sees a different vantage point for the same thing, but none actually sees what happens to the baby. They know he's gone, but the reason is a mystery.

However, they all see Rey pray to the Force to protect her baby son. No one comprehends Rey's meaning as she defiantly claims that Carl is safe and that his father will find him. There is rampant confusion as yellow-eyed Rey says her last words: "Long live the Skywalkers." The irony is lost on her audience, but Kylo knows how unexpected this sentiment is coming from the wife he dumped. When they actually shoot Rey dead, it's mostly out of frustration even if they are following orders.

He's seen enough. Kylo abruptly leaves the room and heads upstairs to Lord Vader's personal meditation chamber. It's a small room like the temple alcove Hux and Rey had been killed in. And like the temple chamber, this room has a portal to the World Between Worlds.

Kylo stares hard at the portal remembering how baby Carl had disappeared to all the layman onlookers. Remembering how Rey had been confident the child was safe. She had been so certain that Kylo would find him.

Awareness dawns on Kylo just as his old Master follows him into the room. They say it in unison: "He's in the Force."

But what does that mean exactly? "If he went into the World Between Worlds, the Force would have spit him back out by now," Kylo moans. Then, Carl would be left lying alone and helpless to die in a cold, dark underground temple.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Get to Naboo," his father-in-law orders. Kylo leaps to obey.

Sneaking onto Naboo isn't hard. The small, picturesque Mid Rim world is barely defended since it has no true strategic value. Unlike the rest of the Mid Rim worlds that are home to the galaxy's manufacturing plants and creative centers for technological innovation, Naboo is largely agrarian. It is distinguished mostly as an educational and cultural center with exquisite scenery. Naboo is not located next to any critical hyperspace lane junction and its sole spaceport is comparatively small. So, from a military and economic point of view, Naboo is nice to have but hardly necessary.

In fact, its blockade defenses consist of a mere two cruisers and a dreadnought. Kylo easily eludes them with a few tried-and-true tricks to slip past the basic First Order scanning protocols. It's remarkably easy to fool an enemy whose standard practices and procedures you are intimately familiar with. And as far as Kylo is concerned, that's one more reason why his side needs to continue to evolve its strategies and tactics. Predictability is a disadvantage in war.

Kylo reaches the hidden temple without incident. Inside all evidence of war has been removed. The bodies of the fallen and the discarded weaponry are gone. Even the debris has been swept aside. All is quiet and still in this ancient place. And yet, the ubiquitous carbon scorch marks on the walls bear witness to a fierce battle. Rey and Hux had clearly put up a tough fight, Kylo perceives as he makes his way through the sacred place.

The small room with the portal to the World Between Worlds is as empty as the rest of the temple. There is no evidence that a baby ever emerged from the portal. Kylo is greatly relieved not to find a small starved body, but troubled as well. For in his experience, the World Between Worlds is a temporary jaunt into another life. In due time, the Force always lands Kylo back where he belongs. Shouldn't it be the same for baby Carl?

Frustrated, Kylo lingers. Staring hard at the mystical portal. Wishing that the Force would yield back his son. This delay is reckless. He's behind enemy lines by himself. But he has to know. So, Kylo steps through the portal into the World Between Worlds hoping for some guidance.

He blinks as he finds himself standing outside in cool, humid air. A lone sun is shining down but it does little to alleviate the chill. He stands on an exterior balcony of a large, gleaming palace. Everywhere he looks, there are red robed and armored guards brandishing lethal looking Force pikes. Apparently, he is not an interloper here. Because as he looks around, Kylo receives slight nods of respect. Whoever he is, he's important. And that's a relief. Too often, the Force seems to make him a prisoner in these circumstances.

The ornate balcony Kylo stands on overlooks a garden two floors below. And there, standing amid a clutch of other whispering, giggling women dressed in black and wearing headscarf veils, is Rey. Her back is presented to him, but her trio of Jakku hair knots is instantly recognizable, as is her feel in the Force. She knows he's watching, too. Rey half turns to throw a come-hither glance over her shoulder.

That's his cue. Kylo heads fast down the nearby stone steps to intercept her.

Unlike the other young women who are shrouded in black with only their faces visible, Rey's head is uncovered. Her high necked glittery black gown has her shoulders and uppermost arms exposed. Long black gloves reminiscent of her Jakku arm wraps cover the rest of her. She has red gems winking from her earlobes and some sort of jangling bracelet on one arm. The little charms that hang from her wrist look like Kittat runes from where he stands. Altogether with her tight hair and brash scarlet lipstick, it's a severe look. Very Dark Side glam and kind of dangerously hot. Just look at the red lightsaber hilt prominently strapped to her right hip. It strongly reminds Kylo of the twin swords worn by old Darth Vitiate's warrior projection in his own reality.

As Kylo approaches, someone gasps, "The Apprentice," and the group of veiled ladies scatters fast. That amuses him. Kylo smirks as he watches the women retreat at his arrival.

"Was it something I said?" he jokes to Rey who has remained to stand her ground. She's looking him up and down brazenly. Kylo is wearing his usual uniform sans the mask. Apparently, it passes muster in this reality because she makes no comment.

"What was that?" he asks curiously, following the retreating ladies with his eyes.

"You interrupted a love spell," Rey informs him.

"Who's the lucky couple?" Please say us, Kylo thinks. Please say us.

But alas, not. "One of the temple girls has eyes for Lord Hux. It is a forbidden love, naturally. But she wants to do it anyway. The foolish girl will never snag him, but she's playing games nonetheless." Rey rolls her eyes in condescending disapproval.

Lord Hux. Really? Well, whatever. Kylo starts laying on the charm as best he can. These things don't come easily to him. But nothing ventured, nothing gained. So Kylo sides up to his girl and says huskily, "How about they do a love spell for us?"

Rey shoots him a sharp look and tosses her head saucily. "Darth Ren, only you could be so bold." Rey starts walking away now, forcing him to follow.

"Playing hard to get?" he accuses lightly.

She shoots him yet another look of reproof. "Careful with that talk, or my father will exile you to that awful world on the edge of the galaxy. What is that place called again? Coruband or something like that?"

"Coruscant," he supplies the name.

"Whatever," Rey says haughtily. "All those backwater Republic worlds are the same. So uncivilized. Why we bother fighting them, I don't know. But I suppose it keeps the Lords busy fighting someone other than themselves."

"Where is your father?" Kylo is presuming it's Lord Vitiate in this very Sith Empire-looking reality. Because the flashy aesthetics of this place remind him of the oldest Sith relics Snoke made him hunt down. It's all a far cry from the austere, almost ghoulish secret temples of the later Rule of Two era. These older Imperial Sith are wealthy and proud in a very public way. There is no effort to be discreet about it.

"Oh, Father is in four places at once, as usual," Rey trills as she reaches to pluck a bloom off a flowering bush. "On his throne, in the temple, meeting with the Dark Council, and eating lunch."

"So, he's eating lunch? The rest are projections?"

"Yes," she answers as she strokes the plucked rose down her cheek. It's a slow, seductive gesture and she knows it. What a bold flirt this version of his beloved is. But Sith princess Rey blows both cold and hot, he learns. "Step back," she orders, adding under her breath, "there are eyes and ears everywhere here, as you well know. Keep your distance, lover boy."

"I miss you," Kylo blurts out. It's the truth. Just seeing her alive has him filled with joy.

But again, Rey freezes him with her gaze. "If my father knew things went further than that kiss he interrupted, you would be dead. Apprentice or not," she warns.

Kylo is undeterred. He and Rey are destiny in any reality, he firmly believes. "I miss you." He's angling for a repeat of that forbidden kiss. And more.

Rey flashes an enigmatic smile his way. Yes, he scored some points there.

So he doubles down. "I miss you," he repeats.

"Don't you dare come into my room tonight. I mean it. There will be no more of that," Rey decrees primly. But then she slants coy eyes over his direction to dangle hope. "Although I think about it all the time . . ."

Damn, this version of Rey is a tease. And he loves it. Kylo is smitten. Bad girl meets forbidden love meets the Dark Side is a very potent lure, especially when it's Rey. Kylo lopes at her side now like the lovesick swain he is.

"Rey—"

"That's 'Your Highness' to you."

"Princess—"

"You need to stop," she quells his next pass. Then she changes the subject. "We found a baby in the temple last week. Did you hear?"

That gets his attention. Kylo snakes out a hand to jerk her to a halt. "A baby?"

"Yes. It just appeared next to the portal. The girls heard him crying and discovered him."

"Where's the baby?" Kylo can feel his heart begin to pound and the blood thumping in his ears. It's a mix of excitement and dread. Because could this be mystery baby be Carl?

Rey shrugs and resumes walking as she tells the tale. "I personally think it was a foundling. Some lady gave him up because she knew her husband would come back from his deployment and know it wasn't his."

"What did he look like?" Kylo is full of questions.

"He wasn't pureblood, if that's what you're asking. His skin was as white as yours. Not a touch of red. But he was one of us. He had lots of Force. Lots of dark hair, too. His eyes were blue but you could tell that they were going to turn brown in time." Rey smiles absently now. "He was adorable. We played with him all afternoon. I asked father if we could keep him but he said no," she pouts.

"Where is the baby now?"

"One of the priests wondered if the boy was the Sith'ari sent by the Force. And you know father. He won't allow anyone to live who might eclipse his power. Even a baby."

Oh no. Kylo gulps. "What did he do? Did he kill the child?"

"No. He threw it back into the portal. Said the Force could have him back. And if he is indeed the Sith'ari, then he will come again. So," she shrugs, "no harm, no foul."

"Oh, good," Kylo exhales his relief.

Rey frowns at him. "You're awfully interested in the mystery baby. Why?"

"It's unusual. That's all," Kylo fibs.

"It was strange," Rey agrees thoughtfully. "The child was dressed in white. Who dresses a baby in white? I mean, maybe grey or red, but white? Babies wear black like the rest of us."

While she concerns herself with the kid's wardrobe, Kylo has more pointed questions. "Why did the priest think the baby was the Sith'ari?"

"Ooooh, I forgot. The baby had a little holochron toy tucked in his blankets. And there was a sword found beside him as well." Rey leans in to whisper the truly shocking part, "It was a Jedi sword. Father lit it up and it was blue! Imagine that. It looked really strange."

A blue sword. Rey's sword. The one Kylo had given her from Vader's stash of Jedi trophies. Kylo's eyes narrow. It's the sword Rey had used while fleeing on Naboo. She must have tossed it into the portal along with Carl.

"If the baby was the Sith messiah, what would he be doing with a Jedi sword?" Rey sniffs. "I think it was probably some war souvenir the lady's lover gave her and she wanted to be rid of it. The whole thing was so . . . odd. I really wanted to keep him, but father said no. He said if I wanted a baby, I should get married," she grumbles.

There's his opening. Kylo steps closer now and makes his move. Looking down into her eyes while deliberately keeping his hands to himself to fool the many onlookers, he begs, "Let me come to you tonight. We'll make our own baby. Then you can marry me."

"In your dreams, Apprentice." But after this retort, Rey looks away and loses the flippant tone. Her voice is hushed. "You know he would never allow it. And he'd kill any child we had. With our midichlorian counts, any offspring we have would be a threat to him." Rey says this matter-of-fact, but it's also a lament. Her eyes find his as she tells him goodbye. "You know we can never be together. You need to move on, Kylo."

"So, it's Hux?" he guesses glumly. "Is that it?"

"I'm never getting married," Rey responds vehemently. "I won't be father's prize to bestow on some ambitious courtier he wants to reward."

"Have you told him that?" Kylo wonders aloud.

"No. But I will when he presents me with a real suitor. Hux doesn't count." Rey slants a sly glance Kylo's direction now as she adds, "If I can't have you, I don't want anyone else."

"Rey—"

"He's coming," she senses, looking a little panicky. "Get lost!"

"But Rey—"

"Here." She stuffs the pretty rose she has been flirting with into his gloved hand. "Go!"

When he stands there hesitating, Rey takes matters into her own hands. She takes off at a fast clip away towards the palace.

"Apprentice!" It's Vitiate alright. Kylo knows that voice. He also knows to fear that tone. He looks up and blinks. And suddenly, he's back in the Sith temple on Naboo. Back to the reality in which Rey is dead. Kylo looks down for the flower she had just handed him. But in this reality, it's gone too.

But his boy is still alive. Somewhere in the Force. And that's the important part.

As always, Kylo looks for a lesson from his World Between Worlds experience. What was the meaning of that encounter? Was it simply to confirm what he already suspected: that his son is hidden in the Force? Checking with his senses and with his tech to ensure that he is still undetected and his ship is unharmed, Kylo now walks a second time into the portal. He wants to discover all he can while he's here.

This time when Kylo walks through the portal, he knows where he is at least generally. It's a Jedi temple and Kylo is dressed the part as a Knight.

A female Rodian Jedi Master approaches with a nervous looking smile. She introduces herself and greets him. "Master Solo, welcome. It's good of the Council to send you out this far to help us."

"Thank you," Kylo does his best stern Luke Skywalker impression.

"This way, please. We should talk in private."

Kylo follows the alien woman into a meditation room. The room is nondescript except for the portal to the World Between Worlds that beckons to him from the far corner. Suddenly, Kylo suspects he knows why he is here.

Waiting for them in the meditation room is the Jedi Master's human Padawan. Like everyone else Kylo has seen, the boy is dressed in traditional Jedi garb complete with the close-cropped hair and a single braid trailing over his shoulder. Together, the Jedi Master and her Padawan relate the tale of a baby boy discovered without explanation next to the Force portal.

Kylo nods as he listens, but his mind is racing. It has to be Carl.

The Rodian woman hands over an object. "The child had this rattle tucked in his swaddle."

Kylo inspects the ornate little trinket that is only ostensibly a toy. This must be the holochron Sith Rey told him about. The rattle has the blue of the Jedi and the red of the Sith, with markings both in Old Republic Aurebesh and Sith Kittat. It could only have come from Darth Vitiate, Kylo knows. The clever rattle is a very fitting gift for the little child who will inherit the best of both extinct religions.

"It's a holochron," Kylo identifies it.

His host is dubious. "If it is, it's not one of ours. We consulted with the archivists at the main vault on Coruscant and they cannot identity it."

"Have you tried opening it?" Kylo asks. He himself is dying to view it.

"We were waiting for you to arrive to try," the woman answers. "We thought it best to defer to the Council for the investigation."

Kylo nods at this wisdom since apparently, he's the representative of the Jedi High Council in this setting. Doing his best to channel his sage uncle's zen-like Jedi chill, Kylo agrees. "Very well."

"There's more. This was found beside the child. It's definitely one of ours."

Kylo silently accepts Rey's lightsaber. He turns it over in his hands, remembering now how he and Rey had trained by day and made love by night long, long ago. If this saber wasn't with her, it was on her bedside table, he recalls. "Who knows of this?"

"Just my Padawan who found the baby and the local Council members. Given the circumstances, we have tried to keep things quiet. There has been some talk. Well, speculation mainly."

"Yes?" Kylo's ears perk up.

"Well, given the circumstances . . . a child who appeared from the Force without explanation or parents . . . a child with such an incredible midichlorian count . . . "

"How high?" Kylo interrupts.

"22,000."

Kylo looks up. He can't hide his surprise.

"You heard right. That's higher than both Master Yoda and Master Skywalker," the Rodian Jedi volunteers the two ultimate midichlorian benchmarks.

Kylo now masks a smirk. Of course, his and Rey's kid would have Force potential that is off the charts. "Impressive," he intones. "Most impressive." And wait, that may have come out more Sith sounding than Jedi.

The local Master now resumes her earlier train of thought. "This child was sent to us with a Jedi guardian sword like a warrior would wield . . ."

"Meaning?" Kylo prompts her. He thinks he knows where this is heading.

She answers sheepishly. "Well, Master Solo, there are some on our local Council who have wondered if the baby is the Chosen One."

Damn right, he's a Chosen One. His boy is descended from the Force on both sides. But this woman doesn't know that. She thinks he's a foundling castoff.

So Kylo feigns skepticism. He raises an eyebrow and imitates his hard ass uncle as he grills her. "You refer to the prophecy of the one who will bring balance to the Force? You believe it is this boy?"

The woman hedges. "Perhaps."

"Most interesting. Where is the child now?"

"He is here."

"Bring him to me," Kylo requests. Well, it comes out more like an order. The habits of command are ingrained deeply.

As soon as the Rodian leaves, Kylo summons the Force to open the little holochron rattle. What he sees dredges up gut wrenching guilt. It's Rey in exile sending a message to her unborn son.

_My son, I am your mother and I love you. You're not even born yet, but I love you. I will always love you._

Seeing Rey heavily pregnant and very sad, her hair cut and bleached as a disguise to evade his enemies, brings him down. It only gets worse as she explains further.

_I'm recording this message because I worry for your future. You will have enemies not of your own making. Enemies who may want to use you or maybe even to harm you. It is through no fault of your own. Those enemies you inherit from your father_ . . .

Rey was right, Kylo thinks glumly as he watches. Because his enemies found them both with tragic consequences.

. . . _The Force is strong in your family. I have it, your father has it, and others in your family had it too_ . . .

Rey goes on to detail the family genealogy. Then, she gets to the crux of why it all matters.

_You are descended from the Force itself. That makes you different from other people. You have a power others will not understand and may fear. In time, I hope you learn to control it. Your power comes with great responsibilities. I hope you make good choices with it._

That last part makes Kylo wince. And now as the message keeps playing, Kylo wants to cringe.

_Your father believes that I betrayed him. He considers me a traitor. He has divorced me and I am exiled. You are not even born yet, but you have been disowned and banished as well. That's my fault. Your father and I have issues. They have nothing to do with you. I want you to know that Kylo Ren is a good man and a committed leader. Once he loved me and I loved him. But he is more committed to his Empire than to his family. I'm not like that. For me, family will always come first. I make no apologies for that._

Ouch. That truth hurts. Rey had seen immediately that Vitiate was more ally than enemy. The jury is still out on that point, but more and more Kylo is starting to suspect that Rey was right all along. But Vitiate's well-deserved reputation proceeded him, and Kylo couldn't see past it.

_I'm going to do my best to be a good mother and to keep you safe. If I am gone when you see this, know that I am watching over you in the Force . . ._

The message ends and fuzzes out seconds before the Jedi Master and her Padawan return. The Padawan has a human baby in his arms.

"Here he is." The Padawan unknowingly hands over Carl to his father. "He's very cute."

Yes, he is. But Kylo says nothing. He just stares down at his lost son. This is the boy he disowned and exiled. The son he refused to make his namesake. The sole heir to the legacy of the Skywalkers. Returned to him if only briefly in the Force. This might be the first and only time he holds his little boy, Kylo realizes miserably.

His first impressions are random. Carl has a dirty diaper . . . and an enormous Force imprint. Vitiate was right that Kylo would know him anywhere. Carl also has wild dark hair that looks to be closer to Rey's color than his own. The origins of his smushy baby face are harder to identify. Carl's features look more regular and smaller than his own. They could be from Rey or maybe from his grandmother. But they definitely aren't from the Solos or the Skywalkers.

"Master Solo?" The Rodian woman is watching him curiously.

"He is cute," Kylo breathes out, feeling he should say something innocuous to mask how momentous this moment is. Is she sensing his excitement in the Force?

No, she's here to critique. "Maybe hold him a little more like this," the Jedi Master inserts herself to alter Kylo's posture to support the baby differently. This is the first baby Kylo can ever remember holding. Apparently, he's not doing it right. "That's better," the Jedi Master approves. "So much Force," she marvels as she strokes at Carl's cheek. "His power is unprecedented."

Actually, it's not. This boy feels like Darth Vitiate feels in the Force. But no Jedi of this vintage knows that, Kylo suspects.

Feeling desperate to have a stolen moment alone with his son, Kylo now asks his hosts to assemble the ranking local Jedi elders to discuss the matter of the foundling baby. As the Rodian Master and her Padawan leave to gather the others, Kylo turns back to his boy, gathering him close.

The baby smiles absently up at him. It's a gummy, silly, happy smile. Kylo instinctively smiles back even as he feels a lump form in his throat. "I'm sorry." The words escape him automatically. Carl can't understand him, of course, but Kylo wants to say the words out loud. Because he has never been one to repress his emotions and he needs to get this off his chest. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there to protect you and your mother. I never wanted to be separated from her but . . . that's how things turned out," Kylo finishes lamely. He is ashamed for the truth of Rey's holochron. Kylo bites his lip, knowing full well that this boy is an orphan in exile mostly due to his stubbornness, paranoia, and pride.

But what now?

If his son stays with the Jedi Order here in this unknown version of the Republic, then he could well become Luke Skywalker all over again. A man who unquestioningly aped the past, a man who doggedly impeded balance rather than promoted it, a man who became a de facto unwitting enemy to his secret father. Kylo doesn't want that future for either of them. He himself tried for years to become a good Jedi, but found he could never measure up. It was an impossible task for a half-Light, half-Dark Chosen One. And so, like his Jedi grandfather before him, Kylo broke violently with those who raised him. They say the past repeats itself, and that's what worries Kylo most for his son. Because the past will never die if the same conflicts keep occurring generation after generation. Kylo wants to move past all that.

But his options to help his son are very limited. For like the love token rose Rey had given him in the World Between Worlds, Kylo knows he can't take Carl with him back to Naboo. That's not how these alternative realities of the Force work. But abandoning Carl here seems like yet another betrayal that will compound the rest. He owes it to his son and to Rey to at least try to help.

Kylo glances up at the door. He hears footsteps in the corridor. Time is running out. If he's going to act, he needs to act now.

"Carl," Kylo whispers under his breath, "I was too late to save your mother. But I can save you. And one day, perhaps, we can rule the galaxy as father and son." Like Vader wanted to do with Luke before Endor happened. "May the Force be with you . . . always," Kylo bids his infant son goodbye. This Skywalker scion will be a prodigal son not because of his own reckless sins, but because of his father's failings. "Return to me when the time is right," Kylo pleas. Then, following Darth Vitiate's example in another life, Kylo thrusts the boy, with the holochron and Rey's saber, back into the portal.

Seconds later, his two hosts reappear with several others.

"Where's the baby?" the Rodian woman reacts.

"In the Force."

"In the Force? In the Force!"

"I put him in the portal," Kylo explains.

The Rodian blinks and exchanges flummoxed looks with several colleagues. "You had no right!" she informs Kylo hotly.

Kylo has every right. That's his boy who he will protect if he can.

"Explain your actions," another Jedi Master asserts as he steps forward. The aged Togruta must be one of the local Council members.

"That boy did not belong to us," Kylo says with conviction. Because if Kenobi can stretch the truth from a certain point of view as a Jedi, so can he. And, dammit, that is the truth. 'Darth Vader betrayed and murdered your father' was an outright lie by comparison.

Kylo says it again as his eyes canvas his hostile audience. "That boy did not belong to us." Carl doesn't belong to the Jedi. He belongs to me, Kylo thinks silently. To another time, to another place, to other people who desperately want him back. But alas, his boy was lost and then found, only to be lost again.

"How do you know?" the Rodian Jedi Master demands. She's outraged by his unilateral action, as are several others judging by their expressions. "What if he was the Chosen One?"

"Then he will come again," Kylo responds solemnly, borrowing a line from Sith Emperor Vitiate. Then, to make it sound sufficiently Jedi, he piously advises, "All is as the Force wills it."

Then, Kylo himself jumps into the portal. It takes him back to the Naboo temple in his own reality. Kylo glances around, wondering if Carl has also appeared. Could this be the way his boy will come home?

Kylo waits and waits, but the portal yields nothing. Because of course, it couldn't be this easy.

When later Kylo tells Vitiate of his experiences, the old Sith listens closely. He offers up no consolation. Instead, he observes, "Mysterious are the ways of the Force, Apprentice. There is far more to it than mere fighting."

"Will we ever get him back?" Kylo moans. Now that he has held his son, the boy is no longer an abstract concept. He's flesh and blood that his enemies have taken from him. Now, finding Carl is more than just assuaging his guilt or checking a box so that Vitiate will revive Rey. Kylo wants his boy for himself. But he is pessimistic. "We'll never get him back," he sighs.

"We shall see. We shall see," Vitiate intones, sounding especially like his Snoke version. Then, he surprises Kylo. "I think it is time to awaken Rey. Perhaps she can help Carl find his way home."


	57. Chapter 57

Kylo listens in resigned silence to the extensive medical briefing on the condition of Rey’s body.  The physicians give the litany of bad news straight, without sugarcoating.  They also give it in impenetrable medical terminology and clinical jargon. When they are done, Kylo asks for a recap in layman’s terms to make sure he has the gist.  He might heal with the Force, but he has no actual medical training.  When the medics are finished decoding their initial presentation, Kylo stands there stone faced.  Then, he exchanges serious looks with his father-in-law.   Clearly, Darth Vitiate has already heard this dauntingly assessment.  But for Kylo, it’s a lot to take in.  It’s also rather hypothetical when it comes to the ultimate outcome.

 

“So . . . is she going to be as bionic as Hux?” discouraged Kylo asks.

 

“That depends on how good you are,” Vitiate answers.  “A lot will depend on your skills.”

 

Kylo nods his understanding and volunteers, “I’ve been working daily on Hux when I’m in Coruscant.”

 

“Good.  Then at least you have been practicing.   This won’t be easy,” Lord Vitiate warns.   And now, Kylo is grateful that the old Sith didn’t attempt to revive Rey on his own.  Kylo has become intimately aware of the ongoing health challenges of Army Hux.  He doesn’t want that life for Rey if it can be avoided. 

 

The ancient Sith now summarizes the division of labor.  “I will bring her to life and keep her alive, and the medics will keep her sedated and as stable as possible with the least amount of intervention.  Then you do your thing.  The faster and better you heal her, the less conventional medicine she will require.”  Vitiate further explains, “Without you around to help with Hux, we had to take radical measures to heal him.”

 

“He’s robo-Hux now.”

 

“He’s a hero,” his old Master corrects sharply.

 

The point is well taken.  Kylo feels himself flush at the implicit comparison to himself.  Because he wasn’t the hero when Rey needed him most.

 

“This is a process,” Darth Vitiate informs him.   “It will be intensive.  We cannot stop and start it.  We will not do this until you can devote sufficient time to it.”

 

“How much time?”

 

“Two weeks.  Maybe more.   It will take as long as it takes.”

 

Kylo bites his lip and tightens his jaw.  This is a big undertaking at an inconvenient time.  As it is, Kylo is way behind on his overflowing to-do list.  He shakes his head and reluctantly admits, “I can’t be gone two weeks here in the Rim.   Even with Hux in charge on Coruscant.”  Last time he was gone a few weeks, his Empire fell apart.

 

“Then we will do it on Coruscant,” his old Master decides.

 

That solution presents its own set of issues.  Kylo’s eyes fix on Darth Vitiate.  “How do I explain you?   Are you some doctor?   Or Rey’s Sith Lord father?”

 

“No.  I am Snoke.”

 

The Hell he is.  Kylo shoots him a hard look and gets right to the point.   “Stealing my Empire?”

 

“It’s only half an Empire.  General Jerard took the rest,” Vitiate points out.  And that’s a non-denial denial as far as Kylo is concerned.  Of course, this man always has an angle for power. 

 

“So this is the price for Rey?” Kylo says softly as he stares down the eternal Sith Emperor.   “The surprise return of Supreme Leader Snoke to my Palace at my capital?” 

 

“Leader Emeritus,” Vitiate defers in a show of magnanimity that raises more suspicions.  “You can do the day-to-day,” he allows.  He’s leaving no doubt who’s in charge.  And maybe, this is more optics than anything.  Because Kylo knows he is only Leader Ren because Lord Vitiate continues to permit it.

 

Kylo mulls it over.   He’s not really in a position to negotiate.  There is only one man in the galaxy who can resurrect Rey.  And truthfully, Kylo needs help with his Empire.  Plus, it could have some upside.  “It would expose Jerard’s claims to represent the true First Order as false . . . ” he muses.

 

“You’re the real Team Snoke,” Vitiate smirks.  “And you have me for the big photo op to prove it.”

 

Without better options, Kylo makes a decision. “Alright.  Let’s do this.  Do we need to replicate all this stuff at the Palace?” He looks around at the medical equipment. 

 

“Yes,” the lead physician answers quickly.

 

“Okay.  I’ll get Mrs. Faris on it.”

 

“Ah, yes, my old domestic general.  I’m surprised she’s still around,” Darth Vitiate observes with a raised eyebrow.

 

“It was a good decision.  More people are afraid of her than they are of me,” Kylo responds dryly.  He’s only half joking.

 

“You mistake my meaning,” Vitiate chuckles. “I’m surprised she agreed to serve you.  If I recall, she was not your biggest fan.  You took your sword to too many walls in her opinion.”

 

“She stayed.  She’s good to have around.”  Kylo recalls aloud now, “She’s a crack shot. She defended the Palace with an E-11 rifle during the coup attempt.”

 

“Did she now?”

 

“I saw her drill some guy in the head at fifty meters three floors up without a scope.”  Looking around at all the silent faces observing their conversation, Kylo remarks, “I suppose all these guys are coming too?”

 

“Them and more,” Vitiate confirms. 

 

And so, days later a transport full of equipment and personnel arrives to set things up in the private quarters of his Palace.  Hux is still in residence, but things will be getting downright crowded with Vitiate soon arriving with Rey and the rest of the medical team.  His quiet—maybe too quiet—Palace will soon be buzzing with people. 

 

Snoke’s homecoming is heralded with all the pomp and circumstance due to the Supreme Leader Emeritus.  The Palace landing pad is packed with troops and officers at rigid attention.  The media turns out in full force to cover the big event.  As Vitiate’s flashy civilian corvette cruiser lands, the whole assembly salutes.  All wait with bated breath to see what happens next.   Kylo stands with Moff Hux at the forefront to receive his surprise special guest. 

 

When the distinctive figure of Snoke emerges down the cruiser’s ramp, there is an audible gasp from the entire crowd.  The man believed years dead makes his way forward with the twisting gait that is unmistakably him. 

 

Everyone is completely confused.  The media types go nuts.  And prankster Snoke loves it. 

 

He acknowledges Hux with a regal nod and a genial smile.   Then he looks expectantly at Kylo.  Is he supposed to kneel?   Because Kylo has no intention of kneeling.  His old Master does not force the issue.  He simply extends a hand.  That’s the picture that goes viral around the holonet:  Leader Ren amicably greeting his still-alive predecessor while Hux looks on.  It pretty much lays to rest any questions about Kylo’s legitimacy as leader of the First Order.  Because despite General Jerard’s claims to the contrary, the true spirit of the First Order is alive and well on Coruscant as represented by the triumvirate of Snoke, Ren, and Hux.

 

Following Snoke comes a procession of praetorians guarding the bacta tank containing Rey’s body.  To hide it from prying eyes and protect it from sunlight, it is draped dramatically in the red and black standard of the First Order.  It gives the floating tank the look of a coffin, which it basically is.  This too adds to the sense of mystery, for all media inquiries about it will be turned away without answers. 

 

Snoke now gives a short speech praising Kylo and denouncing the traitor Jerard.  He gives no explanation for his whereabouts for the past several years.  He just says that he has come out of retirement to lend a hand.  But importantly, Snoke refers to Kylo as Leader Ren to signal that nothing has really changed.   Then, the procession enters the Palace to deafening cheers. 

 

Mrs. Faris waiting inside is so excited to see her old boss that she has tears in her eyes.  When Snoke beckons her forward she surprises them both by throwing her arms around him.   Snoke grins and announces that it’s good to be home. 

 

No one knows what to make of the returned Snoke.  Coming on the heels of ‘dead’ Kylo and ‘dead’ Hux, maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise that Snoke also lives. But it’s very confusing.  No one knows what is fact and what is fiction, what is truth and what is lies.  The double speak from both sides is befuddling to everyone.  But one thing is clear, the return of Snoke is a much-needed pep rally for the beleaguered Imperial forces.  Because with Snoke on their side, Jerard won’t stand a chance.  Old Snoke might not be beloved, but he is respected.  And, frankly, for a long time Leader Ren was neither of those things.  Thankfully, only a select group knows that Snoke isn’t back to take command.  He doesn’t actually appear at any briefings or sit in the throne room.  But just the sight of him lumbering around with a few praetorians seems to lift everyone’s spirits. 

 

Behind closed doors in the private quarters of the Palace, Darth Vitiate makes himself at home and drops the act of Snoke.  It comes as a big surprise to Mrs. Faris who pulls a gun on Vitiate in the kitchen and threatens to kill him.  Since when is eating a ham sandwich a capital crime, he drawls.  Mrs. Faris takes careful aim and informs him that ham was for Kylo Ren’s dinner and that makes it theft.  Well, shoot me, Darth Vitiate smirks, as he polishes off the last bite.  Never one to be easily cowed, Mrs. Faris follows through on her threat.  The Sith Emperor, of course, effortlessly deflects the shot with the Force, sending it into a cabinet across the room.   As valiant Mrs. Faris stands there confused but ready to try again, Kylo rushes in to investigate the shot.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” he sighs with relief.  “Stand down,” he orders his housekeeper as he perceives the situation. 

 

“I will not!” the stalwart woman mutinies.  “Not until you light that sword and kill this interloper!   He must be a spy!” 

 

“A hungry spy at that,” the Sith snorts from his seat at the table. 

 

Mrs. Faris hollers back, “Who let you in here?   This is a restricted area!   You’re not permitted!”

 

“So bloodthirsty,” his old Master muses, his eyes dancing. 

 

“You can’t kill him.  He’s immortal,” Kylo complains.  Exasperated, he turns to inspect the smoking cabinet from which foam now drips. He pokes around to investigate.  “You killed my beer stash!” he accuses his housekeeper.  “Come on!  You have better aim than that,” Kylo grouses.

 

“Actually, I was the intended target,” Vitiate deadpans.

 

“Kill him!   Kill him now!” Mrs. Faris urges. 

 

“Quit playing around and show her who you really are,” Kylo addresses Vitiate, “before she shoots my dinner.”

 

“I just ate your dinner,” the gleeful Sith informs him but then he relents and projects as Snoke across the room.

 

“OH!” Mrs. Faris is so surprised that she drops the gun.   Luckily, the safety lock is on and no further groceries are murdered.

 

“Snoke is just a disguise.  You met the real me,” Lord Vitiate proclaims as he dispenses with his alter ego.  “I trust I do not disappoint?” Vitiate wheedles, like he’s finishing for compliments.

 

The no-nonsense housekeeper recovers fast.  She blurts out, “Why ever would you walk around like an ugly monster when you’re such a handsome man?”

 

Kylo chokes at this comment.  It earns him a quelling glare.

 

And now Vitiate starts oozing charm.  “My dear, now you know my secret,” he confides like this is a tet-a-tet.

 

Not one to mince words, the flummoxed domestic general grills him, “Leader, Sir, where the Hell have you been?  And why would you leave us at the mercy of his leadership in the interim?”  She jabs a derisive thumb Kylo’s direction.

 

“Shall I tell her another secret?” Vitiate goads Kylo. 

 

“Go ahead,” he sighs. “You might as well.”  Kylo is bummed.  He was really looking forward to a beer and his dinner.  

 

“I’ve been in jail,” Vitiate reveals in hushed tones.

 

“In jail?” Mrs. Faris echoes in shock.  “That traitor Jerard had you all this time??”

 

“No,” Kylo inserts himself.  “It was a different traitor who conspired with a Jedi.”

 

“I hate that damned Luke Skywalker!” the housekeeper swears.  “Er . . . pardon my language, Leader,” she amends, rather red-faced.  “It’s just that Skywalker has a lot to answer for.”  She’s sorry, not sorry for dissing the last Jedi. 

 

She misunderstands the situation, but she knows her audience.  That comment brings a grin to Vitiate’s face.  “Sit down, Mrs. Faris.  I’d invite you to join me dinner but I’m afraid there’s none left.”

 

“That was my dinner,” Kylo grumbles.

 

“Go busy yourself elsewhere, Apprentice,” Vitiate dismisses him.  “Let Mrs. Faris and I have a chat and get reacquainted.”

 

Kylo dutifully stomps off.  He goes to check with the medics to see if everything is in order.  Because tomorrow at nightfall Darth Vitiate plans to resurrect Rey.  He’s a mess of nerves over the whole situation.  Because what will Rey be like when she wakes?  Kylo saw her final memories in those traitor troopers’ minds.  He’s knows she died Dark.  And how will things be between him and Rey?  Their last interaction over the Force bond was before Carl was born.  She had offered to reconcile, he had rejected her . . . it was ugly.  Will she blame him now for her fate?  And how will she take the news about Carl?  Will she even remember that she tossed him in the portal?   Kylo doesn’t know.  He thinks through all the possibilities, with Vitiate’s own ill-advised experience weighing heavily on his mind.  This could go badly, he knows.  He tries to prepare himself.

 

And so, it is with much trepidation that Kylo stands on the open-air private terrace of his Palace at nightfall the following day.  This is where Emperor Vitiate will perform his miracle.   All the lights are off throughout the Palace exterior and grounds.  A three-person medic team plus a droid are standing by with a medical capsule and crash cart at a respectful distance. 

 

“Is that incense?” nervous Kylo turns in the direction of a spicy sweet smell that wafts his direction.

 

Vitiate nods gravely.  “I like a little ambiance.”

 

Yes, Kylo sees as he takes in the ring of flickering candles that surround them, giving a perimeter to their makeshift temple. Vitiate himself is dressed in full Sith Lord mode, shrouded in trailing black with the hood pulled low.  It’s like he’s cosplaying Darth Sidious except it was probably the other way around.  Because Darth Vitiate is the Sith all other Sith must have aspired to be. 

 

Looking at him now, Kylo realizes that this is Carl Tenebrae as he must have existed for a thousand years or more.  It’s still somewhat shocking for Kylo to discover how little he knows of this man.  Kylo sees vestiges of his Snoke projection now and then in certain movements and choices of words.  But Darth Vitiate is so much more than Leader Snoke ever was.  Kylo knows he could still learn a lot from him.  Tonight is probably but a small taste of his hoard of knowledge.   And the secrets he could tell . . . well, Kylo would be lying if he said they don’t arouse his curiosity. 

 

The formal trappings of Darkness set a solemn mood for tonight’s occasion.  Like this is a burial ritual and not a resurrection.  It has fraught Kylo very subdued. Darth Vitiate is somber too as he reflects on what he is about to do. 

 

“The quests we take to prove ourselves.  The losses that humble us. The power we seek and the fears we run from.  It is all for this purpose,” he intones.  “For the Force.  For life.”

 

The ancient Sith gazes down on his dead daughter.   Rey’s body is laying on a medical gurney dressed in a loose hospital gown.  Her eyes are open still and her frozen expression reflects pain and shock.  Her skin is grey.  She looks very, very dead to Kylo’s eyes.  And that brings home the enormity of the task at hand.

 

Vitiate continues softly:  “On some level, Rey instinctively understood.  She was a survivor. She always found a way.  Like life finds a way.   Like the Force endures.   After today, she will once again endure, for better or for worse.”

 

Kylo nods. Behind those words, he senses the rare moment of self-doubt from his old Master.  Vitiate is not wholly convinced of the wisdom of tonight’s ritual. So why is he doing it?  Is he doing it for himself?  For Carl?  Kylo wonders. Could Vitiate be doing it for him?

 

“I had long been intrigued by the Light before I learned to resurrect the dead.   Looking back now, I see that I was drawn to the Light.  It was a consequence of how strong a Sith I had become.  The universe defaults to balance, on the whole and within an individual.  None of us is all Light or all Dark.  So it was inevitable that a powerful Dark Lord like myself would eventually be drawn to goodness and prompted to love.” 

 

The pang of regret in Lord Vitiate’s voice is impossible to miss. 

 

“What was her name?” Kylo asks suddenly.

 

“Whose name?”

 

“Your dead girlfriend.   The first person you brought back.”

 

“Tosca.  She was called Tosca, Lady Struct.”

 

“Not Darth Struct?”

 

“No.  Very few women ever earned the title of Sith Lord. Tosca was not one of them.  She had limited powers and only a passing interest in the Force.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Vitiate raises an eyebrow his direction.  “Disappointed?”

 

“Surprised,” Kylo counters.

 

“I valued her for other attributes.  In those days especially, I was wary of others’ power. I feared rivals.  I would not have wanted an equal for a consort.  Your Rey would have been too much for me in a woman,” the Sith admits.  “Back then, I did not understand balance. I did not recognize my own call to the Light for what it was.   Hindsight and time helped to reveal it.  Experience is a great teacher, Apprentice.   It has humbled me more times than I care to count.”

 

“But this power is Dark.”  Right?  Kylo is confused.

 

“Yes and no.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You will see.”

 

Kylo shifts his weight.  All this preamble talk is making him even more nervous.   He mutters, “This had better work.”

 

“It will work.  Are you ready?”

 

“Yes.”  

 

“Then watch and learn.  For this is the ultimate power in the universe.  The power to create trumps the power to destroy.  I count my successes as the things and the people I have built, saved, and created.  Not in wars, deaths, duels, and super weapons.   Those are merely means to an end, not the end in itself.   Never forget that else you will lose yourself in nihilistic vainglory.  Remember:  Darkness is dangerous.   Darkness unchecked will consume you.  Hubris was the downfall of many a Dark Lord.”

 

“Yes, Master.”  The old honorific slips out by accident.  Kylo long ago stopped considering this man his Master, but it’s probably appropriate in this context.   More and more, Kylo wonders if he ever stopped being the Apprentice.  If killing Snoke and ruling an Empire solo were merely the next phase of his tutelage.  Because immortal Vitiate isn’t going anywhere.  He will always remain in the background no matter what. 

 

Beside him, the Dark sage now genuflects a moment.   Then he makes a strange gesture with his right hand, touching his forehead, his waist, and then his chest in two places, from left to right. 

 

Kylo is puzzled. “What is that?”

 

“An old Sith good luck charm.”

 

“There’s no such thing as luck,” Kylo objects. He quotes Snoke’s own teaching. “There is skill and the Force.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“Then why did you do that?”

 

“I always do it.  It is an old habit from the old ways of bygone days.  Why mess with what works?” Vitiate challenges.

 

“Oookay.”

 

The Sith Emperor shoots him a look. “This is sorcery, not science.  It is Force magic.  Do not overthink it.   Faith trumps reason in this context.”

 

Skeptical Kylo smirks. “All that’s missing is the Sith caldron.”

 

“If I had one, I would use it.”  Vitiate is serious.  “They help to focus energy.”

 

Kylo is somewhat befuddled by all this hokey Dark superstition.  But he’ll play along. “I would never have guessed you were a sorcerer,” he grumbles.

 

“I am a priest by training, a warrior by necessity, and a teacher for pleasure,” Darth Vitiate proclaims.  “Now then, let us begin.”   His Master looks to him with expectation and Kylo attempts to replicate the motion of the Sith good luck charm.  Satisfied, Vitiate continues.  “You commence by summoning Darkness.”

 

The Sith now lifts his palms to the sky and begins to sing in tenor voiced modal Kittat.  It’s a repetitive declaratory incantation that belongs in a church.  Kylo is tempted to laugh at this quaint religiosity.  But he keeps a straight face as he endeavors to decode the Kittat words into Basic.  Kylo could be wrong, but it seems to translate ‘Come holy spirit’ and something about filling the hearts of the faithful and kindling in them the fire of Darkness.  It’s hard to tell—Kylo’s Kittat is rusty.  And, that’s too bad.  Part of him finds this Sith hocus-pocus ridiculous but the rest of him is deeply curious to witness the lost Dark liturgy. 

 

As his Master keeps up his musical exhortations, Kylo’s ears begin to pound.  He feels pressure behind his eyes and weight on his chest.  These are the telltale physical signs of great power.  It’s what Kylo himself felt as he pulled the _Finalizer_ out of orbit.  That he feels it now as a secondary sensation speaks to the awesome power Vitiate is conjuring for this feat. 

 

It wipes away the condescending smirk tugging at his lips.  Suddenly, Kylo is afraid.  He is way out of his league.  Maybe there is something to all this spooky Sith nonsense after all.

 

Above them, lightning crackles and splits the sky.  It flashes blindingly close.  The lightning continues and intensifies as a mighty storm brews overhead.  The resulting breeze on the rooftop lifts Kylo’s cape and rustles Vitiate’s heavy cloak.  It extinguishes the circle of candles, thrusting them into darkness.  The wind has picked up elsewhere for the sound of trees blowing hard can be heard from the garden behind them.  Overhead, the clouds swirl.  The air holds a charge of anticipation and danger, of dread and destruction.  This is the Dark Side, eternal and potent, answering the call of its only surviving acolyte.   It makes a believer out of Kylo Ren as the hair on his neck stands on end.   His eyes are wide with excitement.

 

“Feel the Force,” Vitiate groans.  His eyes are closed in deep concentration.

 

“Yes, Master,” Kylo gasps.  His eyes keep darting towards Rey, dead and still, on the gurney.  For when exactly does this magical alchemy take place?

 

“Feel its rage, savor its wrath, know its vengeance,” Vitiate growls a crescendo to be heard over the whistling wind.

 

“Yes, Master.”  Kylo’s heart is pounding in his chest now.  His adrenaline is pumping and his body tenses to prepare for fight or flight.  This surging Darkness is a rush.   Its urgency is almost unbearably intense.

 

“Join me,” his Master orders.  The piercing bright yellow eyes he turns on his Apprentice are warning enough not to disobey.

 

And so, with a deep breath, Kylo mimics the posture of his Master and stretches out his mind to beckon to the Force. And, oh wow, is that a jolt.  Kylo shudders at the sensation of so much Darkness.  He steadies himself and then concentrates harder, like he did when he yanked the star destroyer out of orbit.     Sinking deeper and deeper into the Force, seeking to be its conduit rather than its master.  He will be an instrument of its will, a tool of the cosmic Force, as he helps to bring his Chosen One wife back to life.

 

At his side, Lord Vitiate approves.  “Good.  Goood.”  

 

Kylo is panting, prompting his Master to hiss, “Can you sustain it?”

 

“Yes,” Kylo gasps.   But just barely.  When this is over, he will need to slaughter six people to vent the aggressive tension this exercise has stoked in him.  There is no star destroyer to crash this time to be an object for release.

 

“Behold Darkness!” Darth Vitiate roars, lifting his arms high as thunder sounds on cue.  “Now . . . corrupt it!” he orders to Kylo.

 

Er . . . what?

 

“Warp it!  Pervert it!  Seduce it!”

 

What??  How do you seduce sin? What is forbidden to the wicked?   What do the truly evil fear?

 

“Take Darkness and turn it on its head.   Subvert it!  Destroy it!  Do Dark things to the Darkness itself!”

 

Kylo is shaking uncontrollably now as the storm overhead crackles and booms.  The sound is deafening but it’s nothing compared to its mental feel.  His head feels like it’s splitting.  Vitiate begins chanting again now as he moves forward to lay hands on Rey. 

 

“Do it!” his Master exhorts over his shoulder.  “Do it now with me!”

 

Kylo is far from certain how to proceed, but he makes a wild guess.  Because the only thing he knows that subverts Darkness is the Light.  As his mind does a cartwheel reeling from one extreme to the other, the sky above Kylo seems to explode.  There is a blinding flash like when the kyber crystal in Vader’s saber ruptured to release its energy core.  Everything goes dark as Kylo’s senses are overloaded.  His mind blanks and reboots as he has the sensation of falling. 

 

When next he opens his eyes, Kylo finds himself on his knees like a repentant sinner, his head thrown back, his breathing labored.  The lights on the terrace are on again, he notices.  And that’s when he hears a woman screaming.

 

It’s Rey.   She’s alive.

 

The sudden feel of her living Force washes over his mind.   Kylo chokes involuntarily at the nostalgia it brings.  Vitiate now cedes his position to the medical team who swarm screaming Rey.  She is in pain, terrible pain.  Her anguish fills Kylo’s ears and rushes up at him through the Force.

 

Instantly, Kylo is on his feet at Vitiate’s side.  His Master pushes him aside.  “Stand down. This is normal.  Whether we are born or we are born again, we come into life screaming.  They will stabilize her and sedate her.  Then it will be time for you to heal her.”

 

“N-No—“

 

“Give them time to work.”

 

“N-No—“

 

He can’t watch this passively. Kylo sidesteps Vitiate, pushes past one medic, and shoves another aside.  He has so much pent up Force surging through him that this is the perfect outlet.  Careful to avoid her wounds, Kylo places his hands on Rey’s face and dumps all his residual power into healing.  He is groaning with the effort as he does it.  But he doesn’t stop.  He couldn’t stop if he wanted.  Because this release is necessary.  It’s like a flood of Force and a torrent of emotion leave him.  It goes on and on, depleting him until strong hands yank him back. 

 

“Enough!”  It’s Vitiate.  “You will kill yourself if you do too much!”

 

Kylo is far too spent already to disagree.   He’s swaying on his feet and his vision is blurry.

 

“It is done.  Let the medics work.  It looks as if you have made their task quite a bit easier,” his Master appraises as he squints over at Rey.

 

“Good,” Kylo pants out his relief.   Truthfully, he’s not sure what exactly he has accomplished, but at least Rey’s screaming has stopped.  Her eyes are closed now and she’s not moving.  But she is breathing and her color looks more normal.

 

“Well done, Apprentice,” Vitiate approves.   “Well done.   And now, you know the dirty little secret of a Dark resurrection.”

 

Gasping Kylo nods, “It’s not Dark.”

 

The Sith wipes sweat from his brow as he gives a sheepish, ironic smile.  “It is the Light that revives, just like it heals.  Darkness is merely my pathway to the Light.”

 

“That was . . . unexpected,” Kylo pants out.

 

“I discovered it quite by accident.  I didn’t even realize what I had stumbled upon.  I was so Sith in mindset that I only knew Darkness. Narrow minded fool that I was, I did not know the Light when I experienced it. Take a lesson there, Apprentice.  Your perspective can blind you.  It can make change and growth very hard.”

 

Together, he and Vitiate watch as the medics work.  “Sidious told your grandfather you couldn’t learn this power from a Jedi.  He was wrong.  A Jedi could do this.   The issue was—would a Jedi do this?  Probably not.”  Vitiate makes a face as he laments, “I wish Vader had come to me instead.  He could have released me from Mortis and I could have given him his wife back.”  It’s another version of the same bargain the sly Sith had offered to Kylo.  “Vader could have overthrown Sidious and we could have ruled the galaxy together as father and son.   But alas, we did not get our happy ending.  Our family is due for a happy ending.”

 

The lead medic now interrupts to report that they want to do a complete battery of tests to assess Rey’s current condition following Kylo’s Force healing.  Vitiate nods his permission and turns back to Kylo who is still somewhat doubled over and heaving from exertion.  “Tomorrow you begin to heal her further.”

 

“Not tonight?”  Kylo is up for another try.  More than anything, he wants to help Rey.  Glancing over at the busy medics, Kylo worries that he should do more. 

 

But Vitiate puts him off. “Rest your mind and your body. You will need stamina for this task.”

 

“I can do it.” Kylo protests.  “Just give me a minute.”

 

“That’s your adrenaline talking.  Trust me. You are going to awake tomorrow with a massive Force hangover.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I speak from experience.  Save your strength.” Then, Vitiate commends him again. “You did well, Apprentice.”  It’s rare praise from a man who is exceedingly hard to please. But Kylo feels more anxiety than accomplishment.  Rey being alive is a relief but also somewhat terrifying. Because now, he will have to face her. 

 

Troubled Kylo keeps glancing over at the medics who begin wheeling the gurney with Rey inside.  He’s astounded by what just happened but also profoundly perplexed.  “Why did you wake her?   What made you change your mind?”  He’s been wondering this ever since they left Mustafar.

 

Vitiate is quiet a moment.  He looks Kylo over as if he is gauging how much to say.  “I want to reunite my family.   It’s why I took you in and raised you.  It’s why I bonded you with Rey.”

 

Kylo calls him out on those claims to family values.  “You did that to get us to balance the Force.  So you could get out.”

 

“Reuniting my family required releasing me from Mortis,” the wily Sith points out.  Kylo shoots him a disgusted look and Vitiate shrugs.  “You, Rey, and Carl are all who remain.  I want us to be together.”

 

“But not my uncle and my mother?” Kylo challenges.

 

Vitiate frowns and recoils.  “I only wanted to reunite the good ones.   Skywalker and Organa were lost causes.”

 

Kylo has to agree on that point. 

 

“Come, my boy,” Vitiate beckons.  He’s in full-on father mode now.  “Get some rest. The work to heal Rey will be intensive and you already have a full-time job.   I need you to heal her before I leave.”

 

Kylo’s ears perk up at that news as together they walk back inside. “Where are you going?”

 

“To my old stomping grounds in the Unknown Regions.”

 

Kylo’s eyes narrow.  “What’s in the Unknown Regions?”

 

“Who knows these days?   I’m going to investigate.  It’s a quest,” Vitiate says with excitement.

 

“You’re looking for something,” Kylo accuses. 

 

“In my heyday, the Unknown Regions were the center of the galaxy, home to the most advanced and prosperous worlds.  That was before the rise of the Republic eclipsed us.   For millennia now, the Unknown Regions have been consigned to wild space.  All that neglect may work to our advantage,” Vitiate muses cryptically.

 

“You’re looking for something,” Kylo observes again.

 

“Perhaps.  If it survives to be found.  We shall see . . . we shall see . . . ”

 

Exhausted Kylo falls asleep, relieved that Rey lives but worried for the challenges of her recovery.  When he wakes the next morning, he is even more tired than before and his head is pounding.  His Master is correct—he does have a Force hangover.  Still, foggy Kylo gamely drags himself to Rey’s bedside to start healing.  He’s determined that Rey not become as bionic as robo-Hux.  But the damage to her spine and her internal organs is considerable.  This isn’t healing training bruises or assisting with pain.   It’s hard, draining work. 

 

He does it in shifts, taking breaks to do his actual work in between healing sessions.  Hux is basically running the war for him now.   That’s a good thing because Kylo finds it hard to focus on anything other than Rey.  He is preoccupied.  At night, he sits by her bedside with his datapad and datafiles as he works.  He just wants to be near her even if she’s not alert.  The medics keep her sedated round-the-clock.  It helps her cope with the pain.  Plus, no one wants Rey waking until Kylo has done all he can.  There is no point in frightening her with bad news that might be reversed. 

 

Finally, the day comes when it is time to wake Rey from her sedation.   Internally, she has fairly minimal medical intervention aside from three new titanium ribs to replace those destroyed by blaster shot and a spinal implant that fuses the critical synapses that were severed and would otherwise cause permanent paralysis.  Rey has been slowly weaned off the respirator and the doctors are hopeful that they can also remove the feeding tube. All her vital signs have been in the normal range without assistance for the past several days.   With time and rehabilitation, the medics promise that she should regain full function.  It’s the best of all possible outcomes given the initial assessment.  It’s taken three weeks of grueling round-the-clock care with Kylo, Vitiate, and even Hux taking turns at her bedside vigil.  Here at the conclusion, Kylo is relieved, Vitiate is proud, and Hux is hopeful.  But now comes the hard part:  explaining to Rey what happened.

 

As Kylo watches the chief medic administer a stim shot, he is cool only on the surface.  Inside, Kylo is boiling with mixed emotions.   His thoughts betray him, for Vitiate senses his unease.  His Master gives him a nod of reassurance that does nothing to help.  Fuck.  His hands are trembling.  Without his gloves on, it’s very noticeable.  Does anyone see?   Kylo crosses his arms to hide it.  But now, he starts fidgeting his left leg with nervous energy.

 

Rey’s body jerks in response to the shot, which is normal.  After about a few seconds, her eyes flutter open.  She blinks rapidly as they come into focus. 

 

“Steady now,” the chief medic tells her.  “Just breathe a few moments.”

 

“A-Army,” Rey gasps out as her eyes zoom in on Hux immediately.  “We m-made it??”

 

Armitage Hux looks choked up as he nods and reaches for Rey’s hand to squeeze it.  Kylo tries and fails to suppress an instant flash of jealousy.

 

“We made it.”  Hux is smart enough to skip all the gory details about dying.  He simply answers, “It was rough there for both of us for a bit, but we’re fine now.   Thanks for these two.”  He nods in the direction of Kylo and Vitiate, and that’s something.  At least Hux will give credit where credit is due.

 

Rey manages a shaky smile as she reaches a hand out to her father.   Vitiate clasps it and smiles back.  “Welcome back, Daughter,” he tells her with feeling.  “Welcome home.”

 

Kylo is the odd man out.  There is no doubt where he ranks in this crowd:  last.  Rey hasn’t yet even acknowledged his presence.  Stung, he steps back to sulk against the wall as an onlooker, not a participant.

 

“Where’s Carl?   Where’s my baby?” Rey croaks, looking around as if she’s expecting to find someone holding the child.  When no one answers immediately, she looks to Vitiate.  “Father?” Rey asks fearfully in a small, hoarse voice.  “Father, what’s wrong?”

 

“You saved Carl.  You placed him in the Force.  Into the portal in the temple.”

 

Rey jerks half upright now.  She asks again.   “Is he here?   Where is he?”  She isn’t really comprehending.

 

Vitiate answers calmly.  “Carl is still in the Force.   Alive and safe from all who hunt him.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey slides back down to lay flat.  She is silent a long moment before she rallies.  “Let’s get him back,” she breathes as a lone tear leaks down her cheek.  It’s obvious that she is worried and disappointed.  “I want my baby back.”

 

“We will get back Carl with your help,” Vitiate soothes.   “Your job is to get well so that you can help us reclaim him.”

 

She nods slowly.  “I don’t remember putting Carl in the portal,” she whispers.  “Are you sure that’s where he is?”

 

“Yes.   It was the absolute right decision.  It is the safest place for him.”

 

Rey just stares back bleakly.  “You're sure he is fine?”

 

Vitiate is confident.  “Yes.  Kylo Ren has seen him in the Force already.  Twice.”

 

Finally, Rey acknowledges his presence. “Kylo.”

 

Kylo pushes off the wall and nods, uncertain how to play this moment. 

 

“He healed you,” Darth Vitiate volunteers as he and Rey stare in silence at one another.  “He helped to revive you and then he healed you.  He did an excellent job.”

 

“Oh.”  Rey’s eyes suddenly look scared.  “R-Revived?” she stammers.

 

Hux delivers the news:  “Rey, we both died.  Ren found us and brought us to your father.   He and Ren resurrected us with the Force.”

 

And that’s when Rey’s befuddled mind connects the dots and realization dawns.  Her jaw drops as she looks up at her father in amazement. “You’re out . . . you’re out!”  She is overjoyed.  “This isn’t a projection—it’s the real you!  Father, he let you out!  Just like you had foreseen.”

 

“I let myself out,” Vitiate corrects with a sideways glance Kylo’s direction.  Then once again, Vitiate reassures her. “You are safe.  You are going to be fine.   Carl is safe.  We will retrieve him when you are well.”

 

“Why not now?” Rey cries in confusion.

 

“We need your help,” Kylo finally speaks up.

 

“What does that mean?” alarmed Rey demands.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

 

Vitiate shoots Kylo an annoyed look over her head. But the old Sith once again answers with his characteristic confidence.  “We will plot a strategy for Carl’s homecoming when I return.”

 

“Wait—you’re leaving??”  Rey is stricken by this news.

 

“Yes.  Now.  Your job is to get well when I am gone.  You must do what the medics say,” her father chides.  “Be a good patient, Rey.”

 

“Father, do you have to go?” Rey whines as she clings to his hand.  She looks so vulnerable.  So unlike her normal self.  “Can’t you stay a little while?”

 

“I have delayed for as long as I can, but you were worth it, my dear.”  Vitiate bends to drop a kiss on Rey’s forehead in a gesture that surprises Kylo even though it probably shouldn’t.  Rey clearly has her father wrapped around her finger.   They have come a long way since Snoke was reading her mind and testing her power in the _Supremacy_ throne room.   “You have no idea how pleased I am to see you alive and recovering.”

 

“Army, you’re still here, right?”  Anxious Rey’s eyes shift to find Hux.

 

The Grand Moff steps forward to declare, “I’m not going anywhere.”   Kylo has to fight to keep from rolling his eyes at this earnestness.  

 

Is Rey going to ask about his whereabouts next?  Whether he’s leaving with Vitiate?  No, she’s not.  She’s focused on Hux.  “Tell me everything,” Rey requests of the Moff. “I want to know everything I have missed.”

 

“The medics told us not to tire her out,” Kylo reminds everyone.  “They said five minutes tops.”

 

Rey ignores this advice.  “Sit down, Army.   Just for a little while.”  She motions to a chair.  “Tell me what I’ve missed.”

 

Kylo scowls.  All this Hux-Rey chumminess makes him feel like a third wheel.  He’s seen enough.   Feeling deeply rejected and unappreciated, he stalks out of the room following Darth Vitiate.

 

“She hates me.”

 

The Sith doesn’t disagree.  “Were you expecting any different?”

 

“No.”  But Kylo had hoped for better.

 

“Give it time,” Vitiate counsels.  “Give it time and don’t push.”

 

“When will you be back?”

 

“I’m not sure.  Soon, I hope.”  Vitiate turns back to Kylo and admonishes again, “Don’t push Rey.  Give her space.”

 

“What does that mean?” Kylo gripes nastily.

 

“It means don’t be your normal self.  This is your second chance. Don’t blow it like I did.  Now then, Apprentice,” Vitiate looks him up and down and offers a few more parting words, “try not to lose the war before I return.”

 


	58. chapter 58

It is a frightening thing to die for a survivor like Rey.  Jakku couldn’t get her, but a breakaway faction of the First Order did.  But now, she is revived and trying to make sense of it. 

 

Rey doesn’t remember anything after she and Army entered the temple on Naboo.   The rest is a hazy blur of terror and danger.  Army fills in the blanks, patiently answering her questions as best he can.   But there are a lot of details that he himself can’t recall.  Army shows her his execution holovid that went viral on the holonet.  It starts out as a wry joke that they laugh about.  Rey teases him about how many of the hits are from Army himself.  But they both flinch as they watch him die.   As it turns out, the video is not funny after all.  Rey is very grateful that there’s not a public recording of her own death for her to watch. 

 

She hears the tale of Army waking up at Darth Vader’s castle to meet the true face of his old boss.  She learns just how damaged Army is in comparison to herself.   She watches the holovid of Kylo’s supposed death and she sees the message from the enemy purporting to have Carl.  No one understood that Rey put Carl in the Force until recently, she learns.  Rey comes to realize that Vitiate and Kylo have wasted a lot of effort chasing down leads that revealed nothing. 

 

But her personal family drama is only a part of the situation Rey wakes to.  A lot has happened in the months since she died.  The First Order has split into two warring factions and the systems have been forced to choose sides.  Army explains the state of the galaxy in depth.  He walks her through the enemy’s aggression in the Rim, and he explains the current war strategy and his role in it.  Army doesn’t sugarcoat things, he tells it like it is.   Things are approaching a stalemate at best.  At worst, Kylo might lose, Army warns.   And then, we’re all dead and the galaxy is fucked.

 

Rey listens in, noting how thin, pale, and weary Army looks.   Grand Moff Armitage Hux has been through a lot and it shows.  The changes are more than just appearance and health.   Army’s smug snark has dimmed and a lot of his rapid-fire wit is gone.  He is subdued and measured now in a way he never was before.  But unburdening himself seems to help, so Rey encourages him to talk.   Army being Army, he is rarely at a loss for words.

 

For her part, Rey mostly listens.   She’s never been one to volunteer to share her feelings.  So, the first few times Army comes by when she’s awake, the conversation is mostly a monologue.   But as Rey regains strength and stamina, the visits become more of a give-and-take.     

 

“You know, it’s good to talk about it,” Army prods her gently.    

 

“Yeah, I guess . . . “   Rey is noncommittal.  Sharing feelings isn’t really her thing.  Jakku taught her to repress them.

 

But Army persists in drawing her out.  He’s worried about her and he’s not bothering to hide it.  And since he is the only person who can understand her current predicament, he is Rey’s self-appointed confidante.  Army now gives her a searching look as he tries to ascertain where things stand.  “So . . . are you glad that you’re alive?”

 

“Yes.”  Rey answers without hesitation.  She wants to live.  She has always wanted to live.  Her eyes slant over to her visitor.  “How about you?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Even with the . . . uh . . . changes?”

 

Army makes a face and complains, “Ren calls me Robo-Hux now.”

 

“That sounds petty like him,” Rey gripes.   

 

But Army shrugs it off.  “He does it when he heals me.  He’s spent many hours healing me.   It’s nothing compared to his effort for you, but it’s still a lot.” 

 

“Does Snoke make him heal you?”

 

“No.  He does it so I am available to work.”

 

“Did Snoke make him heal me?” she wonders aloud.  Probably, Rey thinks sourly.

 

But Army shakes his head.  “He wanted to do it.  Ren’s been trying to get your father to bring you back for a while now.”

 

“What was the hold up?”

 

“Snoke and Ren haven’t exactly been getting along.  Snoke was livid at him for what happened to you and the baby.  But they have declared a truce to search for Carl.” 

 

Rey nods.  “That’s the holdup, isn’t it?  They wanted to find Carl.”  She changes the topic now.  Rey is not ready to talk about her missing baby.  “So . . . you and Kylo are getting along now?”

 

Army hedges, “I wouldn’t say we are friends exactly--”

 

“But you’re happy you are back to being his general?”

 

“Grand Moff,” Army corrects.

 

“Right.  Sorry.  Grand Moff.”

 

He nods.  “I want to help Ren win this war.  Jerard and his fanatics must be stopped.  They actually rank worse than the Republic in my estimation.”  That’s saying something, Rey knows.  “They are rampant killers who spread fear and war.”

 

“So did the First Order when it destroyed the Republic,” the former Resistance fighter Rey points out.

 

But her audience disagrees.  This is a point of pride for Armitage Hux.   “There is no comparison. The First Order was a reform movement.  We are bringing order, efficiency, and pragmatism to decision making and government.  So that things work and people prosper—"

 

“You did it at gunpoint,” Rey interrupts.  “You destroyed Hosnia.”   

 

“That was far kinder than what’s going on in the Rim right now,” Army informs her.  “At least the Starkiller was quick and painless to its victims and it was concentrated where it had the maximum effect.   We are not Jerard and his goons with their pointless slaughter and intentional starvation on far flung systems of little consequence.   It’s like they want war for war’s sake.  The worst sort of disorder,” he sniffs.  Army wags a finger at Rey to underscore his point.  “Our violence had a purpose. We’re nothing like them.”

 

Rey slants her friend a sideways glance.  “Maybe not.  But it’s more a matter of degree than a difference in substance,” she accuses.

 

“No, it’s not,” Army maintains staunchly.   

 

He looks like he’s about to launch into one of his vehement manifesto speeches, so Rey just sighs.  “We’re going to have to agree to disagree on this one.”

 

“That’s nothing new,” Army desists with a smile.  “I can tell you’re getting better because you’re sounding like your old self.  We always used to argue over the Starkiller, remember?”

 

“How can I forget,” Rey smiles back.  “That cake!  I still can’t believe you had a birthday cake in the shape of Starkiller Base.  That was tasteless, Army--”

 

“Actually, it was delicious,” he laughs.  “You know, Bin-Salman Jerard was at that party . . .”  Army muses at the irony.  “How times have changed . . . “

 

“Tell me about it,” Rey snorts.  “I fought for the Resistance, remember?  And here I am, the zombie ex-wife of Kylo Ren.”

 

“A lot has happened . . .” Army reflects again.  “I never thought things would turn out like this.  And who knew that there was a leftover Sith no one knew about lurking in Force jail in the Unknown Regions controlling galactic events.  It’s preposterous, but somehow true.”

 

“And,” Rey adds the punchline, “he’s my long-lost father.”

 

There is a lull in the conversation now as they both mull over their respective predicaments.  Then, Army speaks up.   “When this is over, I want to be Chancellor again.”

 

Rey is surprised.  She raises an eyebrow.  “You miss schmoozing in the Senate?”

 

“Yes, I do,” he answers.  “There was benefit to having a legislature.  Not like the corrupt and dysfunctional Republic Senate, mind you,” Army chides.  “But a legislature that works.” 

 

“You didn’t have to destroy the Republic to get that.  You could have reformed it from within,” Rey points out.

 

“No.  We couldn’t.  That would take too long.  We needed a clean slate,” Army counters.

 

Rey shoots him a look.  “You know that is Jerard’s perspective on you and Ren, right?  That the Empire must be destroyed in order to be improved.” 

 

“Jerard is wrong,” Army says unequivocally.  “He must be stopped.”

 

 “We can agree on that at least,” Rey nods. 

 

“Will you be a Senator again when you recover?” Army asks.

 

“When I recover, I’m going to Naboo.”   Rey is unwilling to plan her future until she discovers what happened to her baby boy.   There is no moving on until she gets some answers.

 

“That’s behind enemy lines,” Hux warns.  “It’s not safe at all.”

 

“I’m going to Naboo,” Rey repeats stubbornly.  She doesn’t care about the danger.  She’s going to go back for her child.  No one ever came back for Rey on Jakku, so she is determined to do so for her own child.

 

“Ren’s already been there.”

 

Yes, she knows.  But whatever.  She’s determined.  “I need to go for myself.”  She won’t take Kylo’s word for it.

 

Something in her tone must convey the depth of her conviction because Army nods.  “I understand.   I’ll go with you.”

 

“You’d do that?” Rey is touched.

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Snoke thinks Carl is l-lost,” Rey says in a small voice.  And suddenly, tears threaten.    

 

“He never said that.”

 

“He didn’t have to.  Snoke is the most powerful Force user who has ever lived and Kylo is his Apprentice.  I worry that if they can’t get Carl back, then no one can,” Rey whispers.

 

Army is a staunch optimist on this topic.  “They aren’t his mother.  You are.”  That mollifies Rey a bit.  Army reaches over to put a hand on her shoulder in a brotherly gesture.  “I’ll help you.  We’ll get your strength back and mine.   Then, we’ll go to Naboo for Carl.”

 

“Thank you,” Rey chokes hoarsely as she wipes at her eyes.    

 

Army looks uncomfortable at her display of emotion, so he steers toward a safer subject.  “Has Ren been by yet?”

 

It’s a poor choice for a new topic.  “I don’t want to talk to him,” Rey gripes.  She’s still plenty angry with Kylo for his treatment of her and their son.  He might have helped to heal her, but that hasn’t moved Rey to forgiveness.  “I told the medics for him not to come.”

 

Army frowns.  “He spent weeks healing you.” 

 

Rey answers fast and emphatically.  “I’m not up for a fight with him.”   Instead, she’s opting for the silent treatment.  It’s easier just to shut things down.  Rey has enough emotions overwhelming her right now with Carl being lost.

 

“Okay,” Army backs off.  “It’s your call.” He more than anyone knows what it feels like to be resurrected from a violent death into a morass of conflicts.  Rey is emotionally and physically exhausted, and Army seems to sense it.  “Some space might be a good thing,” he posits and Rey is grateful for this support.

 

After five days of mostly sitting up in bed hooked to monitors, Rey is pronounced well enough to be released from the makeshift Palace infirmary.  She still has lot of physical therapists and doctors poking at her, but she no long requires round-the-clock care.  It is a milestone in her recovery. 

 

Mrs. Faris takes over from the medics.  The gruff housekeeper, who has long been tepid towards Rey, is downright frosty now.  She’s never rude, she’s simply all business.  It conveys her polite disapproval loud and clear.  Of course, she was introduced to Rey in her yellow-eyed Dark version, which admittedly wasn’t her best self.  And so, it’s hard for Rey to hold the housekeeper’s attitude against her.

 

When Mrs. Faris arrives at Rey’s bedside, she takes one look at Rey’s hospital gown and informs her that she has arranged to have a selection of clothes sent over.  What happened to my old clothes, Rey asks.   Aren’t there any still here?   Rey used to have a closet full of clothes.  The housekeeper diplomatically explains that Rey’s things were disposed of.  You mean Kylo threw them out, Rey surmises dryly.  They would be out of fashion anyway, Mrs. Faris points out with creative tact. 

 

Since it appears that some shopping is indeed in order, Rey requests simple, comfortable clothes.  No Senator dresses, please.   Rey wants casual attire.  The housekeeper sniffs at this request—Mrs. Faris has strong opinions about how things should be done--but she agrees to make sure some loungewear for downtime will be sent over.   The way she says it makes Rey confident that she will be confronted with a rack of expensive camera-ready day gowns.  Mrs. Faris goes on to say that she is also procuring a new grooming droid should Rey want to fix her hair.  The Leader prefers your natural color, Rey is informed.  While Rey fumes in silence at this soft command, oblivious Mrs. Faris offers to show her to her room.  She then proceeds to conduct Rey to her old bedroom.  The giant one that adjoins Kylo’s quarters in the master suite. 

 

Rey stands on the threshold stubbornly unwilling to walk in. 

 

This is new, Rey observes without enthusiasm. Her tone is tart.  Did Kylo kill the furniture along with my clothes and my grooming droid? Mrs. Faris’s answer is discreet, as always.  She just murmurs that it was time for some redecorating.  Rey nods along at this evasion, but requests one of the extra bedrooms with more privacy.  The housekeeper responds that with Army and her father in residence and the other rooms devoted to medical equipment, there are none left for Rey.  This is all that’s available.  And, Mrs. Faris adds, this is where you belong.

 

But we’re divorced, Rey says softly.  The housekeeper wastes no time telling Rey that order has been rescinded.  Rey chokes.  Whaaaat?  You’ll need to take that up with the Leader, she is told.  And now, there’s no way Rey is moving back into her old room.  She remembers all too vividly what she and Kylo did in that bed.  So, she balks and announces that she will remain in the infirmary.

 

Sure enough, when later that day Rey is presented with her new clothing options, it’s all fancy gowns fit for the wife of Kylo Ren.   Now, if she will just put on a dress, darken her hair, and jump back into bed, Kylo will be pleased apparently.  It’s infuriating.  It’s like Kylo is trying to pretend that nothing has happened.  That he didn’t exile her and divorce her. That he didn’t reject her overture to reconcile.  That it didn’t all culminate with her dying and their son lost in the Force.  So Rey defiantly borrows a pair of scrubs from one of the female medics, yanks her hair back in a ponytail, and heads for the hospital gurney in the infirmary to take a nap.

 

She’s anticipating some pushback, but she gets none. 

 

In fact, Kylo is never around.  He continues to avoid the infirmary, although Rey learns that he receives daily messages with updates on her progress.  She doesn’t see him at the meals she takes in the kitchen with Army either.  Kylo never shows his face on the private terrace where Rey likes to do her physical rehabilitation in the Coruscant sunshine.  Twice she catches sight of Kylo from the back at a distance in the hallway heading to his Palace.  But that’s it.  

 

When Rey opted out of being treated as a wife, it’s as if she opted out of any sort of relationship with Kylo.  He doesn’t treat her like an ex-wife or a family member, or a friend or a colleague, or even a houseguest.  It’s more like she lives in a luxury hotel and Kylo is a stranger who rented a room down the hall.  There are no screaming fights, no ugly blame-filled confrontations, no tearful conversations about what it means to have died and lost a son.  It’s anticlimactic and unsatisfying.  It’s also completely unlike him.  Emo Kylo has never been one to shy away from conflict.  He never gave her space.  That man was always in her face making his wishes known . . . until now.  Rey is both relieved and perplexed at first.

 

Not long into her recovery, she begins having nightmares about the chase on Jakku.  Maybe they are lost memories coming to the surface brought on by her conversations with Army.  Maybe they are a reflection of her anxiety for the fate of her son.  Or maybe they are just post-traumatic stress manifesting itself.  But the bad dreams make it hard to sleep.  Some nights Rey just gives up and heads for the terrace to watch the nighttime cityscape fade as the sun rises.  It reminds her of waiting for the sunrise in the desert back on Jakku.  Coruscant can be a little chilly like the desert, too.  Once on an unseasonably cool night, Rey wakes from dozing in a chair outside to find a blanket covering her.  Army claims to know nothing about it when she questions him the next day.  Was it Kylo’s doing?   Rey doesn’t know and he’s not around to ask.

 

It’s weird to be physically in close quarters but emotionally distant.  Her hot-head ex-husband is definitely playing it cool.  In the face of Kylo’s indifference, Rey turns to Army.  The Grand Moff is less busy now that Kylo is back doing his Supreme Leader job full time.  That allows Army to spend an hour with Rey each morning after breakfast walking around the terrace.  It’s good for both of them since Army too is still regaining his health.  After a week of laps around the terrace, they venture into the Palace gardens below.  Together, they take slow strolls with plenty of breaks. 

 

But not long after their daily walks in the gardens commence, Rey gets the nagging feeling she’s being watched.  She whirls and searches to spy a dark figure high up on the terrace balustrade.  Is that Kylo?   It must be.  She turns to nudge Army to look, but when she points up the figure is gone.   Had she imagined it?   Rey can’t be sure.  But every few days she gets that same sensation of being stalked.  Sometimes, she thinks she sees a dark shape at a window or on a balcony or across the park.   But she’s never sure it’s Kylo.  Lots of guys at the Palace wear black. 

 

She’s half-tempted to confront Kylo.  Because all this distance between them is starting to feel like more rejection.  And, yes, Rey was the one to reject Kylo first this time around.  Telling him not to come by to see her and rejecting his tacit offer through his housekeeper to resume their prior life together.  But as the weeks go by, Rey is now the one feeling unwanted and hurt.  On some level, Rey is miffed that the script between them has changed.  Kylo was always the romantic aggressor making the first move, leveraging his authority, wealth, and willingness to do just about anything to get her to agree to his terms.  Kylo had been the one wanting to formalize a commitment with his insistence on loyalty.   That’s how they ended up husband and wife, Master and Apprentice, Supreme Leader and Senator.  It was Kylo’s power couple version of happily-ever-after.

 

From the very beginning of their relationship, Kylo did the chasing and Rey was the chased.   Rey was the one putting Kylo off and pushing him back.  Setting limits she would later cede as she moved more and more into his life.   They had a huge falling out over her father, and that upended things dramatically.  But that issue is resolved and Kylo at least appears to have made peace with Vitiate.   Yet things remain very arm’s length between them. 

 

A month into her recovery, Rey concludes that she is no longer wanted.  Kylo had said as much before Carl was born, and this just confirms it.  It’s a bit of an ego blow.  Where is all that talk of forever love and destiny now??  And it’s not like Rey wants to get back together with Kylo—not really, not yet.  It’s more that on some deep level, it is important for this abandoned and scorned scavenger girl to feel wanted.  Still, maybe Kylo’s attitude makes sense.  Army has changed and Rey herself feels forever scarred now.  So maybe it is natural for things to be different for Kylo now given all that has transpired.   But it comes as an welcome surprise. 

 

Rey keeps expecting Kylo to barge in one day and start making ultimatums or declarations.  But he never does.   So one day, after fretting all morning about Carl, Rey barges in on Kylo.  She’s worked up enough for both of them.   Ready to fight, if need be.

 

Kylo blinks at her sudden arrival.  She has interrupted him in a meeting with his aides.  They are watching a hologram projection of a battle in the planning stages as a senior officer with lots of decorations on his chest narrates.  The men all turn to regard Rey warily.  Even with her scrubs and growing-out light hair with dark roots, they surely must recognize her from her prior stint at the Palace.  Back then, Rey was the praetorian-killing, sword-wielding Senator wife whose arm Kylo broke during a fight.  Her erratic, violent reputation proceeds her today.  Several of the men look anxious to head for the exits rather than witness their Leader’s latest domestic disturbance.

 

As Kylo and the rest of the room stare at her expectantly, Rey’s opening words come out angry, rushed, and imperious.  She’s nervous and trying to hide it.  “You’ve been to Naboo?  Tell me about Naboo. I want to know.”

 

Kylo nods slowly before he answers. “I went to see if he came out.  If he did, there was no evidence of it.  Then, I went in the portal myself.  Twice.”

 

“Snoke said you saw him.”

 

“I held him once.”  Kylo is talking calmly in contrast to her highly agitated state.  “In that reality, the Jedi had him.   He had appeared out of a portal in one of their temples.”

 

“But it was really him?  You’re sure?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Why didn’t you take him back with you?” Rey wails.  It was the obvious move.  Any idiot would know to do that. 

 

Kylo looks sorrowful as he confesses, “I couldn’t.”

 

“Why not?” she persists.

 

“The World Between Worlds doesn’t work like that.  And the Force wanted me to know it.  First, it showed me you at Snoke’s palace.  You gave me a flower that I couldn’t take back with me either.”

 

Who cares about a stupid flower?   This is their son.  “But he belongs here!  With us!” Rey protests hotly. 

 

“I put him back in the portal.  So the Jedi wouldn’t have him.”

 

“And the other time?” Rey chokes out.   Just speaking aloud about Carl has her on the verge of tears.  She’s a hot mess about her lost baby.  Weeks of suppressing her grief and denying her fears have made those scary feelings bubble up.  And her mixed emotions about Kylo don’t help the situation.

 

“The other time I just heard about him.  I never actually saw him.”

 

“Who told you about him?” Rey demands, looking for clues. 

 

“It was another version of you.”

 

“Oh.”  Kylo’s response has her flummoxed.  “Me?   Me??”

 

“Yes.”

 

Feeling like Kylo is stonewalling her, Rey now demands, “Tell me all of it.”

 

“Let’s talk about this tonight.  In private,” Kylo counters.  He’s talking softly and looking at her with naked pity in his eyes.  It ticks her off.   She won’t be put off. 

 

“Tell me all of it!” she screams back, sounding hysterical even to her own ears. 

 

“Rey—“

 

“TELL ME!” she roars.  And damn, if she doesn’t feel her eyes flash yellow in the moment. 

 

Kylo relents and tells a tale of being in her father’s old palace as the Apprentice hearing of a baby who might be the Sith to end all Sith.

 

Rey deflates as she hears the punchline that Vitiate put the child back in the portal.   “So he really is lost . . . ” she bemoans. 

 

“We’ll get him back,” Kylo promises.  He seems sincere but Rey is doubtful.

 

“How?  How will we get him back if we can’t take him with us?  How will he ever find his way home?” she wails.  Tears of frustration drip down her cheeks.  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” Rey speaks her worst fear out loud.  “Our son is lost forever, right?”

 

“We’re hoping you can bring him home.  Since you're the one who put him in.”

 

“And if I can’t?” she challenges. 

 

“Then we wait for the Force to return him.”

 

“That’s it?   That’s all you got?” she jeers.  Kylo isn’t to blame for Carl being missing, but her anger finds a focus on him anyway.

 

Kylo looks resigned. He’s working his jaw like he always does when he is uncomfortable.  “I wish there were more options,” he sighs.  And that defeatist attitude is so unlike him.   This is a man who conquered the galaxy.  He studies the Light and the Dark to balance the Force. Extreme challenges are his thing.  He’s not the sort who gives up easily.  But clearly, he has given up on Carl. 

 

Well, she hasn't.  “There has to be more!  What are you doing?” she demands.  “How can you sit in meetings and plot your war and go about your business like everything is fine??”   Rey is gulping air as she melts down.  She’s raving now.  Heedless of the roomful of onlookers who are witnessing this painful scene.  “Why aren’t you looking for him?   Why aren’t you doing something?  Do something!   You’re his father!”

 

“There’s nothing to do.”

 

“Our son is missing and you’re just going to give up and let the Force handle it?   Really?   Really??”

 

“Yes.”

 

His subdued, simple responses are in sharp contrast to her reckless emotion.  It’s like they have traded places from their original roles.  “When you are better, I will take you to Naboo if you want,” Kylo offers patiently.

 

The overture rankles.   Rey snipes back bitterly. “You are such a disappointment.”

 

And now, it seems she has succeeded in getting an argument out of Kylo.  He’s fuming as he becomes righteous.  “Do you think we are the only ones who have lost someone?   That we are the only parents with a missing child?”

 

“I . . . I . . .”  Rey is caught off guard.  Because it’s true that her grief has made her concerned mostly with herself.

 

Kylo continues, his own voice rising now. “Would you like to see the civilian casualty estimate from Jerard’s latest victory?  Or our estimate of displaced war refugees?  Because there are plenty of missing children there.”

 

Defensive Rey argues back, “Since when do you care about that?”

 

“Since those are my people!  The galaxy is falling apart!   I can do something to stop it.  So if our son ever does show up, he won’t live under the threat of Bin-Salman Jerard.”

 

“You’ve given up!” Rey accuses.

 

Kylo is indignant.  “There are important considerations other than Carl.”

 

“You haven’t learned a thing, have you?   You’re still choosing your Empire over your family!” she lashes out.

 

“I can do something for the Empire,” Kylo informs her curtly.  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything for Carl.”

 

It becomes a silent standoff now as Rey stands there crying and Kylo runs a hand through his hair and looks away.  When he next speaks, he’s back to his usual volume.  “You need to get well so you can search for him.  If you want to help Carl, then help yourself.”

 

“It’s been over a month.  I’m fine.  Let’s go to Naboo.”

 

Kylo exhales and placates her.  “Alright . . . okay.  Clear it with the medics and we’ll schedule it.”

 

“I’m fine!” Rey retorts.  It’s a lie and they both know it. “Let’s go now!”

 

“I can’t go now.”  Kylo gestures to his working group and their battle scenario. “I’ve got work to do.”

 

“Then I’ll go without you when Army is done with his nap,” Rey announces.   After all these weeks of worrying and wondering, she’s desperate to take action.  Her mind is made up. “He said he would help me—"

 

“Hux will slow you down.  That guy’s a wreck still--“

 

“I’m going,” Rey digs in.  She refuses to back down. 

 

“It’s too dangerous alone—”

 

“I don’t care.”  If Finn and Han Solo can sneak onto Starkiller Base to help her, then she can sneak onto Naboo for Carl.  “I’m going today whether you like it or not,” she declares.  Then, she heads for the door.

 

“You win.” Kylo surrenders as she leaves in a huff.  “We’ll go tonight,” he calls after her, sounding very resigned.

 

“Okay.”  Rey half turns and nods her agreement.  “You owe me this, Kylo,” she tells him bitterly.


	59. chapter 59

After that ugly scene with Kylo, Rey busies herself preparing for the upcoming trip to Naboo.  She tasks Mrs. Faris with finding her something suitable for a covert mission behind enemy lines.  The housekeeper arrives an hour later to present her with a First Order uniform, complete with combat boots, a leg holster, and a military issue blaster.  The clothes are a reasonably good fit and perfect for the task at hand.  All that’s missing is a saber.  Rey peruses her options in Kylo’s training room.  There’s nothing there that works—they are all training swords that lightly maim rather than kill.  So, Rey corners an off-duty praetorian and commandeers his doubled bladed vibrostaff weapon.  Rey remembers how lethal it was from the melee in Snoke’s throne room.  She figures it’s the next best thing to a lightsaber and it’s perfectly suited for her skillset.

 

Next, Rey decides that her current ombre hair might be too recognizable to the enemy who had identified her living on Naboo.  So Rey submits to the ministrations of the new grooming droid to return to her natural color.  While the dye job is motivated by pragmatism, Rey is glad for the results.  Looking in the mirror, Rey can sort of see her old self again.  For good measure, she ties her hair back in her old trio of buns.  Nothing says ‘I mean business’ like a woman who is not dressed for the male gaze in any way.

 

Now that Rey has her gear together, she does the most important prep of all:  she takes a nap.  Truth be told, her stamina is far from good.  Intermittent rest helps.  These days, Rey has to pace herself.

 

Hours later, she’s waiting on the landing platform by Kylo’s command shuttle when the man himself arrives.  He is also dressed for action.  Kylo has dispensed with the kingly cloak.  Gone too are the vicar’s robes and sash that scream ‘Dark priest of the Force’ at first glance.  Instead, he’s wearing a rather plebian First Order flightsuit.  He’s sporting his sword bouncing on his hip, and like Rey he has a blaster strapped to his right thigh.

 

But even in the nondescript uniform without the helmet, Kylo cuts a distinctive figure.  So tall, with the usual mop of unruly black hair that contrasts so starkly with his natural pallor.  No one looks like this man with his mix of ugly features that somehow combine to be handsome.  No one walks—well, stomps—like this man. He moves like he was born to command.  Everything about him gives the impression of danger and dominance. 

 

Seeing him still makes Rey’s heart skip a beat.  It’s exciting to be going to Naboo to hopefully find Carl.  But it’s also exciting to be going with Kylo Ren.  

 

She and Kylo have a combustible chemistry and a tumultuous history.  Their long separation has made Rey hyperaware of his presence though she tries to ignore it.  For he is a study in contradictions.  And therein lies the frustration of their relationship.  Kylo is as high minded as he is petulant, as confident as he is paranoid, as dedicated as he is cynical, and as loving as he is violent.  Accepting all that is a tall order, even without the danger and death that flow in his wake.  This Skywalker prince can manage to balance the Force but he can’t seem to muster much empathy.  And sure, Rey isn’t the greatest at communication, but Kylo all too often lets his sword and his smirk do the talking for him.  He is so much to admire and esteem, and yet so much to condemn and disdain.  It’s like Kylo’s critics and his defenders are both correct.   The man is marvelously flawed, and that makes him strangely compelling.  It’s like Rey can’t look away even when she tries.  

 

“There you are.”  Kylo looks her over as he walks up.  His gaze lingers on her hair but he wisely refrains from remarking on it.  “I was wondering if you had changed your mind.”

 

“I’ve been here ten minutes at least,” Rey sniffs, lifting her chin a little defensively at his inspection.

 

“Did you kill a praetorian for that weapon?” Kylo looks pointedly at her vibrostaff.

 

“He’s alive,” Rey responds.  Her face flushes as she recalls anew her murderous rampage in her Dark phase that had thrown several praetorians to their deaths.  “And unharmed,” she adds sheepishly.

 

“Good.  Well, come on then.  Let’s do this.”  Kylo motions for her to follow. 

 

He leads her to a ramshackle TIE Interceptor sitting on the far edge of the landing pad.  It has seen a lot of action.  The ship is covered in carbon scoring and one wing looks reconstructed from spare parts.  No one in maintenance ever bothered to repaint after the repairs, so the wing is a random patchwork of various shades of grey, red, and black. 

 

“Hop in,” Kylo gestures a hand and the cockpit opens courtesy of the Force.  “It seats two.”

 

“Are you serious?  We’re going in that thing?”  Rey walks a perimeter around the craft, noting all the battle scars.  “Did you find this on Jakku?” she scoffs.  “What a piece of junk.” 

 

Kylo looks like he is expecting this reaction.  “Appearances can be deceiving,” he chides.  “She’ll make point nine past lightspeed. She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts.  She’s got a lot of special modifications just for me.  But we’re a little rushed, so if you’ll just get onboard, we’ll get outta here.”

 

Rey climbs in and sits down.  Inside, this TIE looks like all the old ones she saw crashed on Jakku.  The basic technology hasn’t changed much in thirty years.  Rey starts warming up the engines and checking the hyperdrive stats. 

 

Kylo climbs in and shoos her aside.  “Move over,” he points to the aft seat for the optional gunner.  “I’m flying. This is my ship.”

 

There is a three second silent standoff before Rey concedes the pilot seat.  “Fine.”  She straps into the gunner’s chair in the rear of the cockpit.  “So . . . you really fly this thing?” she asks as Kylo activates the repulso-lifts.  The small ship breaks gravity to hover mid-air.

 

“I fly sorties with my own squadron now and then,” Kylo explains as he fastens on a headset.  Then he pulls back on the throttle and the TIE lifts off.  “I don’t do it in a fancy slick ship that announces I am Kylo Ren.  I want to be anonymous in a fight.”

 

“Yeah, I could see that,” Rey nods.  The ship launches straight up fast, heading right for the upper atmosphere.  Up ahead, the orbital lanes are choked with interplanetary craft even at this time of night.  Coruscant is the Eternal City world that never sleeps.  Passenger ships, cargo vessels, and military patrols come and go at all hours.  Rey groans at the traffic snarl.  “Look at that backup for the hyperspace lane.” 

 

“That’s not a problem.”  Kylo radios ahead on his com and then cuts right through the queue.    “We get to jump the line.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes at this display of rank and entitlement.  “It figures.”

 

“It’s not just because it’s me.  All military ships get priority during wartime.”

 

“You do love your war,” Rey observes sourly.  Even to her own ears, the comment comes off sounding super bitchy.  Somehow, she and Army can disagree on many things and still keep it light and friendly.  But it’s different with Kylo.  His intensity stokes her intensity, and she has so many strong emotions about this man.  Rey isn’t sure how to express them or whether to even bother at this point.   Quite frankly, she’s miserable and unhappy, and it shows.

 

Kylo calls her on it, too.  Once he has plotted course for the Naboo system and made the jump to lightspeed, he swivels around in his seat to face her.  “You’re so angry,” he accuses softly.

 

“Surprised?”

 

“A little.”

 

Rey looks away.

 

“Maybe a lot,” he amends with a sigh.  “I keep getting you wrong.”

 

“Yeah . . . yeah, you do,” she mutters.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Rey shoots him a resentful look.  “It means you send Mrs. Faris to move me back into our rooms so I can resume our old life and you think that’s okay??”

 

“Last time we talked, that was what you wanted—"

 

“That was a long time ago—"

 

“How was I supposed to know you changed your mind?  You never told me.”

 

“I was dead!” 

 

Kylo doesn’t have a response to that, so Rey resumes her list of grievances.  “Mrs. Faris tells me you rescinded the divorce."

 

“That’s right.  You asked to come home.  So, I thought I would give you that option--”

 

“I only did that for Carl,” Rey reveals.  “Not for myself.”

 

“Look, the divorce was a mistake.  I was trying to fix it,” Kylo grinds out. 

 

“And you didn’t think you should tell me that yourself?   Instead, you send a servant?”

 

Kylo looks frustrated.  “I was trying to give you space. You said you didn’t want me around.  I was trying to respect that.   I didn’t want to pressure you.”

 

“Yeah?  Well, you failed at that goal,” Rey snaps back.  “Your housekeeper is the despot enforcer of the Palace.  Nothing about Mrs. Faris telling me we are still married and it’s time to look and act like your wife says ‘no pressure’ to me.”

 

Kylo runs a hand through his hair.  “I guess I was wrong again.  But what do you want, Rey?”

 

That answer is easy:  “I want Carl back.” 

 

“Besides Carl.”

 

That answer is hard.  “I don’t know,” Rey admits after an uncomfortable silence.  “I can’t plan the future without knowing if it includes Carl.”  That’s the truth.  Motherhood is a transformative, game-changing role.  Life as a mother is very different from life without a child.  Motherhood changes your priorities and ambitions, it brings your values and desires to the forefront, and it stresses your relationship bigtime.  But hard as it is, it is wonderful. 

 

“I miss him.  He was such a good baby,” she remembers aloud bleakly.  “He rarely ever cried . . . ” 

 

“Rey—"

 

“He was making such good progress with sleeping through the night.  He went a stretch of six hours a few times . . .”

 

“Rey—"

 

“I c-can't believe he's g-gone,” she says in a horrified, hoarse gasp before she succumbs to tears.  These days, Rey is never far from tears.  It’s humiliating at times, but her grief will not be suppressed easily. 

 

Kylo just watches in silence until she regains her composure.  “He's alive,” Kylo reminds her with quiet conviction. 

 

But it’s little consolation.  “I wish it had been me lost instead of him,” she laments.  “The medics tell me it will be difficult to have another baby.  Not without extraordinary measures," Rey uses their vague and scary terminology.

 

“If it comes to that, we will do whatever you want, Rey.” 

 

His words are kind, but they rankle.  Why does everybody think you can replace one lost child with another?  Rey resents that attitude. “I don’t want another baby.  I want Carl back.”   

 

“I know.  Maybe tonight we will come home with him.”

 

“That’s the plan.”  She looks up resentfully.  “This trip took you long enough.”

 

“I didn’t think you were ready for this yet.” 

 

“The moment I opened my eyes, I was ready,” she snaps.

 

Kylo shakes his head again.  “I keep doing the wrong thing . . . ”

 

“Maybe one of these days you will realize that you can’t direct me like you do your troops,” Rey tells him sharply.   

 

That comment provokes an equally pointed response.  “And maybe you will learn that you don’t need to interrupt my meetings to get some attention.  Rey, I know you need attention.  I know how much you crave it.”

 

“Yeah, well marching into your bedroom at night might have given you the wrong idea,” she shoots back.

 

“You’re so angry . . . “ he repeats again.  Kylo looks sincerely dismayed by the situation, too. 

 

Irked Rey changes the topic.  Enough about them.  She focuses on the mission.  “How long is this flight?”

 

“Three hours.  If all goes as planned, we should be back by daybreak.  I’ve done this before.  Sneaking on and off Naboo isn’t hard.”

 

“Good.”

 

“The hard part will be the temple.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t think we should go back to that villa you lived in.  It poses to much risk for detection.”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”  Rey doesn’t think she wants to see all those baby things anyhow.  “There’s nothing there that can’t be replaced,” she murmurs.  “It’s just stuff.”  Oddly enough for a girl raised with very little, Rey has never developed a taste for material possessions.  It’s like she went without them for so long that she never learned to take pleasure or pride in the them. 

 

“I’m glad your father found you and helped you,” Kylo volunteers.  And now, they are back to talking about them again.  Maybe because there is so much left unsaid. “I was wrong to exile you,” he ventures.

 

“I was pregnant and you still threw me out.” Rey is still bitter about that.

 

But Kylo’s mea culpas keep coming fast.  “I was wrong to doubt the paternity of the baby.”

 

“I never once thought to cheat on you.  I would never do that.”

 

“I was wrong about your father.”

 

“And Hux.”

 

“Him too.”

 

“You were wrong about a lot of things,” Rey concludes glumly.    

 

“I know.  I keep trying to make things right,” Kylo answers simply.  He’s looking at her hopefully.

 

But Rey shakes her head.  “I don’t know if you can . . . after all that has happened . . . “

 

“You were willing to try again before,” he prods.

 

“That was for Carl’s sake.”

 

“So, if we get him back, will you agree to be a family together?   You always said you wanted a family,” Kylo persists.   

 

Rey answers truthfully.  “I don’t know.  I told you—I don’t know what I want.”  And is Kylo getting the message to back off?  Because suddenly, Rey feels like she might cry again.  Anxious to shut down this heart-to-heart that has already gone on too long and is going nowhere, Rey announces, “Wake me up when we get to Naboo.”  Then she closes her eyes and pretends to sleep.  She’s probably not fooling Kylo, but she needs to avoid any more emotional conversations if she is to be in any shape to function when they arrive at the temple.

 

The return trip to the temple is, well, hard.  The musty, earthy odors . . . the dank feel of still air . . . the dim reddish haze from recessed lights that fail to illuminate much.  Once they step inside, the temple assails Rey’s senses.  It unleashes a flood of lost memories from that fateful night.  Suddenly, Rey can hear the shouts and smell the acrid plasma bolts flying from all directions.  She’s sweating now as she recalls her utter desperation.  For with her baby in one arm and her sword in the other, Rey had been fighting for both their lives.  She has lived through quite a few dangerous combat situations, both on Jakku and during her days in the Resistance.  But none of them had felt like the chase in this temple.   As she and Kylo enter and head for the portal, it all comes back.   Rey fights the urge to panic.

 

“You okay?”  Kylo keeps sneaking glances her way as they walk side by side through the maze of interlocking rooms.  Always turning left.  “Rey?” he prompts when she doesn’t answer.

 

“I’m fine.”  She’s far from fine, but there’s nothing either of them can do about it.  So, Rey soldiers on.   She’s the scavenger from Jakku and she has grit to spare.

 

“You sure?” Kylo checks in again a minute later.  He must be sensing her distress through the Force.  Her thoughts betray her.  That darn bond makes Kylo extra perceptive.

 

“It’s just weird to be back here,” Rey mutters.  “That’s all.”

 

“It’s about three more turns.”

 

“I know.  I remember.”    In fact, she remembers it all now in excruciating detail.  And that’s why each footfall brings an increasing sense of dread.  Because Rey knows how and where things ended.  And she’s about to come face to face with the setting for her own death.  When they enter the small room with the portal, Kylo walks right over to it.  But Rey lingers to the side, nearer the door.

 

She points.  “This is where they killed Army.  I was on the floor already.”  She walks over to where she had lain wounded, shot in the back.  “I was about here.  I was done for.  I couldn’t see any option other than to throw Carl in the portal.”

 

Kylo picks up on the apology behind those words.  “No one blames you.”

 

“I do . . . sometimes.”  There.  She’s said it out loud.  For she feels very guilty over what happened to Carl.  Like she should have done more or done things differently.  Like she should have found some other means of escape.

 

Kylo is firm.  “Jerard is to blame.  And me.”  He makes a face.  “Your father could have protected you better, too.”

 

Rey walks over to Kylo’s side now to stare at the entrance into the World Between Worlds.  “Where are the other portals?” she asks.

 

“I only know of two.  Here and Mustafar Castle.  But supposedly there is one in a Jedi temple on Lothal.  And there was one in the main Sith temple on Dromund Kaas.  They must be scattered all across the galaxy.  To laymen, they are invisible to the naked eye.  That would make them hard to detect.”

 

“So Carl could have emerged anywhere already,” she reasons.  “Then, even if he was found and cared for, we might never find him.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Kylo avoids the ugly truth. 

 

“But it’s possible,” she persists. After her years of self-deception about her parents returning, Rey refuses to delude herself about the possibilities for Carl.

 

“He’s a Chosen One.”  Kylo turns to look her in the eye.  He has absolute belief in what he says next.  “Carl can’t stay anonymous forever.   The Force won’t let him.  He’s too important.  Wherever he is, when he has his awakening, we will both sense it.  Perhaps your father will even be able to locate him based on that alone.”

 

Rey nods, but she is not much consoled.

 

Kylo gestures to the portal.  “Do you want me to go in first?”

 

“No.  I came here to do this.”  Rey hands Kylo her borrowed vibroblade staff, takes a deep breath, and walks into another reality, hoping for the best.  

 

As always, the first few moments are completely disorienting.  Rey looks around at the unfamiliar surroundings searching for clues.  There is sand beneath her feet and a scorching sun overhead but this is not Jakku.   She doesn’t recognize the alien bug-like creature who flutters around at eye level speaking singsong Rim-accented Basic either.   And she’s never seen the longhaired human male Jedi Knight who keeps glancing at her with suspicion.  

 

“Tell me again. Exactly,” the Jedi orders.  He’s talking to her.  

 

When Rey hesitates, uncertain how to respond in this context, the flying bug intervenes.  “Look, do you want the boy or not?   She already told you.  There was no father.  She carried him, birthed him, and raised him.  And I believe her. The Hutt who owned her back then believed her too.  She’s never once been disobedient or untruthful.  The boy?   Well, not so much . . . “

 

The Jedi stares hard at humble Rey, standing there in a loose homespun dress, work apron, and sandy boots.   “It’s an extraordinary tale for a boy with so much Force.  Often the Force runs in families,” he says with clear implication that Rey is lying.

 

“She told you, Jedi.  There is no father.  The kid was born a slave and I have clear title to him.”  The bug creature clearly misunderstands the context of the Jedi’s interest because he assures the man, “No one is going to contest your ownership.”

 

“Alright,” the Jedi nods.

 

Sensing a buyer, the flying bug starts bargaining hard.  “I’m offering a good deal, but if you don’t want him, I will sell him elsewhere. I need to raise cash.”

 

“I’ll take him.”  The Jedi hands over credit chips that the alien inspects carefully before accepting.  But a deal is struck and the necessary formalities are exchanged.  Rey watches the transaction with silent trepidation.  She has surmised that she’s a slave in this reality.  What she doesn’t understand is who this boy they’re talking about is.  

 

“Where is he?” The Jedi asks for his new property. 

 

“Boy!    Boy!” the buzzing bug hollers.  “Come meet your new master.”

 

Out from a darkened doorway of a low sandstone building rushes a skinny child.  He can’t be more than ten. With shaggy brown hair that covers his ears and neck and hangs down low over his eyes.  He looks up at Rey with dark eyes and heartstoppingly familiar features.  That long face, a little too thin for good health, makes alarm bells go off in her head.  It can’t be . . . can it?   Is this Carl growing up?  Is this her baby boy?

 

The scared child confirms it when he looks right at stunned Rey and says, “Mom?  Is it true I’m going to be a Jedi Knight?”

 

The alien slavemaster now instructs Carl, “Say goodbye to your mother.  You’ve been sold.”  Then the bug turns to the Jedi Master.  “He’s a hard worker.  If you don’t make him a Jedi, he’ll make a good mechanic.”

 

“He will be a Jedi,” the man promises, looking at Rey. “Come now, Carl.  Get your things.  Let’s get to the ship.  We have a long flight ahead.”

 

“Do I get a laser sword?” the flustered boy asks.

 

That prompts a genial smile from the Jedi Master.  “Of course.”

 

For her part, Rey just stares at the confused child, her heart pounding.  This is what Kylo had feared—that the Jedi would find Carl and raise him.  And that would ruin him for what he might one day become.  

 

“Wait, I’m leaving now?  Right now?” the boy balks. 

 

“Yes.  Master Jinn owns you, kid.  Good luck.” The bug is impatient to hurry things along.  

 

The child looks stricken. “But what about Mom?  Is she free too?  You’re coming too, aren’t you, Mom?”

 

Rey doesn’t know what to say.   She just stands there as a silent tear runs down her cheek.  The others think she’s upset because she is losing her son.  But in truth, it’s because she has found him.  Except, he’s not a baby any longer.   He’s a precocious school age desert mechanic.   Like she had been herself on Jakku.  Like mother, like son.  

 

The Jedi answers Carl. “I didn’t actually come here to free slaves.  I’m only here for you.  To give you a new life in service to others in the Jedi Order.”

 

“But I don’t want to leave Tatooine.  Not without Mom,” the boy protests.  He looks stubborn, so like his Supreme Leader father in the moment.  

 

The Jedi Master counsels calmly, “Your feelings do you credit, but the Jedi do not have attachments.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means Jedi have no family.  It’s best to say goodbye forever and make a clean break.   You belong to the Order.   We are your future.”

 

Rey finds her voice now as she realizes how urgent the situation is.  She needs to do something fast.   Her mind is racing for a solution, so she tries to prolong the goodbyes to buy time. “Carl—”

 

“I’m not going,” the boy rebels.  And the look on his young face is pure petulant Kylo Ren. “I’m not going!”

 

The slavemaster bug inserts himself yet again.  “You have to go, kid.  He owns you.  And he’ll make you a Jedi.   It’s a better life than this.”

 

The boy digs in, glaring from the Jedi to the alien. “I don’t care.  I’m not leaving.  Not without my mother.”  Carl glances at Rey. “I can’t do it, Mom.  I just can’t do it.”

 

The bug looks frustrated at this scene.  “Look, accept it and move on.”

 

“Carl,” the Jedi says in a tone of gentle warning, “there is nothing to fear.”

 

But the boy looks terrified.   He throws his arms around Rey now, burying his face in her chest. “Will I ever see you again?” he cries into her dress.  

 

“Oh, Carl,” Rey hugs back tightly.  “I love you.”  She relishes the embrace even as she worries that she is losing her son all over again.  She has to stop this.  But how?

 

The Jedi Master puts hands on Carl’s shoulders and firmly tugs him off Rey.  “Now, be brave and don’t look back.  Carl, you’re taking your first steps into a larger world.”

 

The Jedi exchanges glances with the insect alien, who advises, “Best to go now before the boy gets angry.  He has a temper.”

 

Carl wrenches free of the restraining hands for one last hug.  “I will come back and free you, Mom.  I promise.”

 

And those words just kill Rey to hear.  For she was once a child who yelled ‘come back!’ at a parent who walked away from responsibility.  And here now is her own child a few years older vowing not to abandon her.  It’s so Kylo Ren, Rey realizes. Because for all his shortcomings, lack of commitment and irresponsibility are not Kylo’s problems.  He has an obsessive sense of duty to the galaxy stemming from the weight of his family legacy.  His means may be regrettable, but his intentions are always good.  

 

“N-No---No!”  Rey balks now too.  So much for her docile, obedient persona in this reality.  Rey refuses to let this separation happen.  She will not let her son be taken by the Jedi and raised in their dubious tradition.  She might be a slave in this reality, but she is far from powerless.  These people don’t know it, but she has the Force.  And lots of it. 

 

Rey casts out her right hand to snatch the Jedi’s weapon from his waist.  It ignites a brilliant green with the familiar snap-hiss. With one neat swing, Rey cleaves that bug-like boss of hers in two.  As the surprised Jedi begins to react, she throws him hard into the building with a mighty Force push.  As he slides down, Rey stabs him in the midsection.  It’s not a fatal wound but it’s enough to incapacitate him.  

 

“Mom!” Carl is horrified.

 

“Who are you?” The injured, sprawled Jedi stares up at her incredulously.  “You have the Force!  You are trained in the Jedi arts.  I see how you hold that sword.”

 

“Carl, RUN!”  Rey orders before she turns back to the Jedi to answer. “I’m his mother and I know what you will turn him into.  Trust me, I’m saving your kind as much as I am saving him.   You should thank me for this,” she hisses grimly.   For like his father and his great-grandfather, Carl Ren might one day be slashing younglings at a Jedi temple. 

 

Still holding onto the lit sword, Rey races after her fleeing son.  “Onto the bike!” she yells as she points to a parked speeder bike outside a cantina up ahead. 

 

Panting Carl pulls up short at the bike and Rey stashes the sword to begin hot wiring it. “Wait—we’re stealing it??”   Carl looks shocked. 

 

“Yes.”  No time to explain. 

 

“Wow, Mom,” the boy exhales, impressed.  “Where are we going?”

 

“Anywhere away from here.”   They’re on the run now.  She’s a slave who just slew her master and attacked a Jedi.  That’s serious stuff.  Maybe they can lay low for a bit, Rey can steal a ship, and she and Carl can flee for Naboo and find the portal in the temple.  Then, she can take him home to his correct reality.  

 

The wires she crosses spark and singe her fingers, but determined Rey gets the speeder bike running.  She leaps on, Carl sits behind her, and they take off as shouts of “Stop them!  Stop them!” ring out from behind.  

 

“Hold on!” she urges and Carl digs his fingers into her waist.  Rey has no idea where she is heading and they have neither food nor water to survive in the desert, but all that matters is that they remain together as they escape.  Her adrenaline pumping, Rey pushes the rickety old bike as hard as she can.  

 

Ten minutes later, they are alone in a desert plain beside a large mesa.   Rey slows the overheating bike and they both hop off.  It’s time to formulate a plan.  Rey sees moisture vaporators in the distance.  She can steal water from those to survive.  But where can they hide?   They also need to find food. 

 

Rey doesn’t get time to ponder those problems because Carl yells and points.  “Mom!  Look!”

 

“Oh, no.”  They are found.  But as the fancy, much newer speeder bike pulls up, the newcomer is clearly not the local authorities come to arrest them.  It’s an altogether different kind of threat.  

 

A man in black leaps off the speeder to confront them.  He’s a Zabrak Sith with a red face covered in tattoos, yellow eyes, and a crown of horns.  The man’s visage and bearing are menacing enough, but then he pulls his sword.  Rey’s eyes widen considerably.  The man brandishes an unusual hilt horizontal before him and then activates a blade on each end.   It’s not a lightsaber, it’s a saberstaff. “I need to get me one of those,” Rey mutters under her breath.  

 

The man stalks forward towards them, twirling his sword in a flashy move designed to intimidate.  It strongly reminds Rey of Kylo Ren on Starkiller Base.  Like Kylo, this guy has Dark Side bravado to spare.

 

“Hand over the boy and you both will live,” he orders.  The Force tells her it’s a lie.

 

“Mom?” Carl breathes.  “I think we’re in trouble.”

 

“Let me handle this. Stand back,” Rey hisses.  “If I fall, get on that bike and flee.”  Then Rey reaches for her stolen Jedi sword and lights it.  

 

Their attacker is taken aback at the flash of green.  “You’re Jedi.   So, the Order found him first,” the Zabrak surmises.  

 

“What do you want with him?” Rey demands. 

 

“The same thing you do.  Whoever controls the Chosen One controls everything.”

 

Yeah, Rey knows how this works.  The game for power justifies anything and everything in this guy’s view.  And that’s why Rey is ready to fight.  There’s nothing she won’t do to protect this stranger kid who is her son from those who would manipulate and use him.  

 

“Prepare to meet the Force, Jedi,” the Sith snarls.  The Zabrak is pacing back and forth, sizing her up.

 

“I’m no Jedi,” Rey growls back.   

 

“Then who are you?”

 

Who is she?   She is many things.  She is Rey, the desert scavenger and Resistance fighter from Jakku, the pupil Luke Skywalker spurned and the daughter who Dark Lord Vitiate welcomed.  She is a Senator of the Second Empire and the erstwhile wife to Kylo Ren.  And she is a Chosen One, born of the Force itself, destined to bring balance to the universe.  But first and foremost among all her experiences and talents, Rey is one defining role:  “I’m his mother,” she proclaims, with mama bear maternal instinct racing through her veins.  It girds her resolve.  Woe be to anyone who might harm her child.

 

“Which Darth are you?” she demands as she executes a flashy sword spin of her own.  Because two can play at this posturing thing. 

 

“Maul,” he answers.

 

“Never heard of you.”   This Maul guy never even made her father’s top ten list of Dark Lords.  He must be a second string Sith at best.   Well, no matter.  He’s going down.  Rey summons her power, and this time it is Dark.   Rey feels her eyes flash yellow from the effort.  And suddenly, she’s lusting to kill her attacker.  She can’t wait to draw blood.

 

The Sith’s jaw drops at this reveal.  “Who are you?” he repeats.  “You’re no Jedi.”

 

She’s a badass in her own right, but this guy won’t understand that.  So Rey answers, “I am daughter to Darth Vitiate and wife to Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.”

 

Only the first name she drops has meaning for her opponent.  “Vitiate has been dead for thousands of years,” the Sith scoffs.

 

“That’s what you think.”  And that’s enough preamble.  Rey attacks.  It’s an opening pattern Kylo taught her long ago.  Maul parries her swings easily and responds in kind.  Luckily, Rey learned how to fight with a staff back on Jakku.  She knows how to evade the Sith’s double blades easily enough.   He is fast, very fast.  But he’s also unused to sand.  And that is the villain’s undoing as he stumbles on its shifting surface.  It’s the mistake Rey needs.  A mere forty-five seconds into the fight, she sees her opening and takes it.  With a waist-level horizontal swing, she neatly bisects her opponent.  He lands in two pieces on the ground.

 

“Ugh.”  Panting Rey winces at the gruesome scene.

 

“Mom?  Mom??”  It’s Carl’s shaky high voice.  

 

“Stand back!”  He doesn’t need to see this.

 

But it’s too late.  “You killed him!   Mom, you killed him!”   

 

Rey nods as she turns off her sword.  “Better him than us.  Carl,” she tells her boy with utter sincerity, “there’s nothing I won’t do to protect you.”

 

“What do we do now?”

 

“We steal his bike.”  To the victor go the spoils.  But as Rey heads for the vehicle, she sees something that catches her eye.  Is that a mirage from the desert heat?  Or could it be something else?  Rey’s mind is racing as her curiosity mounts.  Perhaps she and Carl won’t need to get to Naboo after all . . .

 

“Come on!”   Rey wanders to investigate.  Yes, that’s no mirage.  The flickering, hazy sight is an entrance to the World Between World out here in the middle of nowhere in the Rim.  They are saved!  Rey turns to Carl.  “Don’t let go, no matter what!” she says sternly.  Then, gripping her young son’s hand tightly, she races for the portal.

 

And suddenly, Rey finds herself back in the dim Naboo temple. Kylo is standing there watching as she whirls to look for young Carl. 

 

“Where is he??  I had him!”  She’s out of breath so the words come out in gasps. “Did he come out?”

 

“It’s just you.”

 

“He was holding my hand!  I had him!  He wasn’t a baby any more—“

 

“It’s just you.”  

 

“But, he was with me—“

 

“It’s just you.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

Rey is crestfallen as Kylo’s words sink in.  “I got him away from the Jedi and I killed the Sith—I saved him.”  She turns around and stares hard at the portal behind her and hollers, “I saved him, dammit!  Where is he?   Where is my son??” 

 

Kylo looks almost as disappointed as she feels.  “Carl must have gone through the portal into another reality.  His reality.   Not ours.”

 

“But—but—“ she sputters.  “Shouldn’t his other realities be our other realities? We’re a family.”

 

Kylo sighs.  “I’m sorry, Rey.  This is what your father warned would happen.  That finding Carl in the World Between Worlds wouldn’t mean we could bring him back.  But I thought that maybe you could get him out since you put him in.   That things would be different for you . . .”  Kylo has had a lot more time to get used to the idea of their son’s fate than she has.  He is clearly far more accepting of the situation than she is.   But he also had no relationship with Carl, so he doesn’t truly know what he’s lost. 

 

“Why won't the Force let me have him back?” Rey starts to ugly cry now.  Big, sloppy, snotty tears of sorrow. “I had him . . . I know I had him . . . ”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kylo repeats woodenly.  “I wish things were different.”

 

“I put him in there to save him!  To protect him!” Tears of frustration stream down her cheeks.  “I asked the Force to shield him.  Not to keep him forever.  It’s like the Force has stolen him!” she rages.  

 

Kylo thinks aloud. “Maybe there's still too much danger.  Maybe the Force still needs to protect him.   There is a war going on . . .”

 

“I don’t know.”’ Rey is far too emotional to entertain Kylo’s reasoning.  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” she wails.  “I just want my baby back!”   She’s utterly traumatized for she just lost another version of her son all over again.  Her shoulders shudder as she gasps and sobs.   Rey is a wreck now about Carl’s fate.  Far worse than when she had walked back into this treacherous temple. 

 

“Hey, hey now—“ Kylo wraps his arms around her and holds tight.  Trembling Rey melts against him, flooding his chest with tears.  She would fall to her knees were Kylo not propping her up. 

 

“It’s like he slipped through my fingers—“

 

“We will find him.   Somehow.   Someday.  I promise you.”

 

“He's lost!  My boy is lost forever!   He’s alone and I’m alone—“

 

“You’re not alone,” Kylo soothes as he strokes her back.   “I'm still here,” he whispers into her ear. 

 

“That’s not enough—“   She wants Carl. She desperately misses Carl. 

 

But Kylo persists.  “Stop pushing me away.   Lean on me.  Let me help.”

 

“Oh, Kylo, it’s too late,” she grumbles. 

 

“No.  It’s not.”  

 

Rey pulls back now, and Kylo drops his arms and lets her go.  As she looks up, he makes his case. “Rey, we never really had a chance.   We were just getting started when you went Dark.  And then you left to find your father and came back pregnant.  Everything fell apart for us because of that.   And not long afterwards, the galaxy fell apart too.  It’s like we were the bellwether for everyone.   Off to a shaky start before we crumbled.”

 

It's true. "You're right. But it doesn’t matter now . . . ”  She shakes her head.

 

But Kylo keeps arguing.  "It's like we missed our chance.   Like fate conspired against us to compound our own bad choices—“

 

"We can't change any of that now," she gripes.  “And what’s the point?”  Rey wipes at her watery eyes and runny nose as she recovers some fragile composure.  "You were right when you said we were over.”

 

He looks her squarely in the eye and disagrees softly, “We don't have to be over."

 

Rey looks away.  "It sure feels over.   So much for destiny,” she mutters.  Because in the face of ugly reality, their too fast, too new love never stood a chance.  There were too many conflicts between them and around them for harmony.  And too many interlopers—from General Jerard to Army Hux to Snoke—pressing their own agendas and perspectives.  Plus, their own personal history didn’t help.  They began with a kidnapping and interrogation and progressed to a duel.  Violence is something of a hallmark for their relationship, and that’s never a good sign.  Hindsight makes it all clear: “It was never going to work . . .”

 

But Kylo keeps trying. As usual, he never knows when to give up.   "We can let our son's loss be the final straw or we can recommit for another try.  Rey, this could bring us together,” he urges.

 

"I'm lost without Carl," she confesses unhappily.  Lost and not in the mood for romance.  Too emotionally drained to commit to anyone.  And still far more physically weak than she cares to admit. 

 

"I know.  I'll help you."

 

“Kylo—“

 

“I miss you.”

 

“It’s too late.”   Once, she wanted to hear these sentiments, but now they feel bittersweet.  Rey looks away as she confides. "I used to think that Carl would be the best of us.  That he was a gift from the Force to ensure the future would be secure since you and I didn't last."

 

"Rey—"

 

"But now, he's gone too.  It's like the Force is angry with us.  Like we're being punished.”   She frowns as she complains again, “Why won't the Force give him back?  Why?"

 

"I don't know.   I just know that we need to work together.  And for that, we need to stay together."

 

"I don't know . . . "

 

"Just think about it,” Kylo backs off on demanding an immediate answer.   “When your father returns, the three of us can be a family together, if you want.   I know it's not complete without Carl, but it's something,” he offers lamely. 

“I don’t know . . .”

“Alright.”  Kylo stops pushing.  He returns to the task at hand now.  “Do you want to go back in?” He gestures to the portal.

 

“No.”  One heartbreaking disappointment is enough.  Rey won’t volunteer for a repeat.

 

“Is there anything else here you want to see?”

 

Rey shakes her head.  “Let’s go home.” She wipes at her eyes again, hiccups, and stifles a yawn.  “What time is it on Coruscant?”

 

“Almost 4am.”

 

“Yeah.  Let’s go.”  Upset Rey just wants to get away from this awful place that has cost her so dearly.   

 

“Okay.” Kylo drapes an arm over her slumped shoulders and gives her an encouraging squeeze. “Do not despair.  Trust in the Force.”

 

Dejected Rey doesn’t respond.  She just trudges back to the ship and climbs in.   

 

Luckily, the exit from Naboo turns out to be as uneventful as the entry.  By the time the ship makes the jump to lightspeed, exhausted Rey is asleep.  The next thing she knows, Kylo is gently shaking her shoulder.

 

“Wake up.   We’re home.”

 

“Whaaaaat?”  Rey opens her eyes to see Kylo peering down at her.

 

“We’re home.  Unbuckle and let’s get breakfast.  I’m hungry.  I want to eat before I shower.  I’ve got a meeting in less than an hour.”

 

Groggy Rey fiddles awkwardly with the seat restraints.  “Here let me do it,” Kylo intervenes.  Then he tugs her up from the seat and hands her down the ladder.  Together, they wander inside the Palace.  It’s early still.  They pass mostly guards and domestic staff who pretend not to gawk. 

 

“You’re back.”  They find Army Hux in the Palace private quarters in the kitchen.  Army knew about the trip to Naboo.  He silently appraises Kylo and Rey as they walk in.  His concerned expression reveals that he has correctly guessed the disappointing outcome.  But as the Grand Moff opens his mouth to speak, the chef appears to place breakfast before him.  Army reacts:  “Yuck.”

 

“Sorry, Sir,” the chef apologizes.  Then, catching sight of the newly arrived Supreme Leader, the man nods respectfully.  “Good morning, Sir. We’ll have something right out.”  But first, the servant pulls out a chair for Rey at her usual spot.  “Yours is ready, my lady,” the chef invites her to sit.  Evidently, the staff were expecting Rey to arrive for breakfast with Army as usual.

 

“What’s the matter with him?” Kylo eyes Hux as he plops into an open spot at the table.  Kylo pours himself some caf and settles back.  Rey is still subdued from the trip, but Kylo is back to business as usual with his sarcasm. 

 

Rey explains.  “Army is grumpy because the doctors have put him on a high fat, plant-based diet.”

 

“I’m a keto vegan now,” Hux announces glumly. 

 

“Yeah?”  Kylo smirks.  “Well, I’m a keto virgin and I plan to keep it that way.  Pass the carbs, Rey.”  Kylo nabs the box of cereal beside her and pours himself a bowl.

 

“I miss carbs,” Army looks longingly at Kylo’s cereal.  “Almost as much as I miss my original spleen.”

 

“You’re adding sugar to it?” Rey watches as Kylo dumps heaping teaspoons of sugar atop his bowl. “Gross.”

 

“I miss sugar too,” Army laments.  He goes back to poking at his plate like it’s poison.

 

“It’s the breakfast of champions,” Kylo proclaims between gobbled bites.  “Lots of caf, lots of sugar, and a stim shot from the medics to start my day.”

 

“I think that might make me throw up,” Rey frowns.  “Are you sure that’s healthy?”

 

“Who cares?  I’ve got a full day of work ahead of me on zero sleep,” Kylo reminds everyone.  “And sugar is energy.”

 

“Take a nap.  I do,” Army suggests as he pushes his plate away in disdain.

 

“Can’t waste the time, Robo Hux,” Kylo scoffs. “The Empire doesn’t run itself.”   Kylo chugs his coffee now before adding, “You know, for a five-star general—“

 

“Moff.  I’m a Grand Moff.”

 

“For a five-star Grand Moff Chancellor guy, you sure sleep on the job a lot.  But,” Kylo observes wryly, “at least you’re no longer dead.”

 

Army ignores this comment.  “I see you’re back alone,” he addresses Rey gently.   “Find any leads?”

 

She shakes her head. “No luck.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah,” Rey looks down.  “Me too.   I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Army takes the hint and starts talking to Kylo about the overnight war reports out of the Rim. 

 

Five minutes later, Kylo finishes his cereal and guzzles the rest of his caf.  Then he grabs his ever present datapad and comlink, and stands to leave.

 

“Fifteen hundred?” Hux asks him. 

 

Kylo nods as he checks his beeping datapad.  “Fifteen hundred.  Same as usual.”

 

“What’s the usual?” Rey is curious.

 

“Force healing.  My magical rehab,” Army explains. “Every day at 3 o’clock I get Ren’s Jedi treatment.”

 

“Right.  I forgot.”

 

Kylo looks up from the datapad he is focused on to report, “Rey, Sith Daddy says hello.”

 

“Is that a message from my father?” She puts her spoon down.  This is news.   “Where is he? When is he coming back?”

 

“He says he found what he was looking for but it’s not Carl.  He’ll be back in about a month, he hopes.”

 

“He found what he was looking for?  What does that mean?” Army wonders aloud. 

 

“Who knows?  And who cares?  I need our uber-Sith to come back and help.  Your father could probably end this war singlehandedly if he wanted to.  That guy is his own walking super weapon,” Kylo grumbles, “if even half the stuff about him is true.  But instead, he has to leave immediately on his quest to the Unknown Regions.  Because he can’t be bothered to help save the Empire he plotted.”  His venting done, Kylo announces, “Alright, I’m off.  You,” he points to Rey, “get some sleep.   That’s an order.   Robo Hux, eat your veggies or whatever.  That’s an order too.  I can’t have you fainting on me during our strategy session.  You’re the only one with sense.”

 

Then, the weary Supreme Leader stomps from the room, leaving Rey and Hux alone.

 

“I’m sorry,” Army tells her again.  His face is full of pity.  He knows how let down she feels.

 

“Thanks,” Rey mutters.

 

“So . . . you two are on speaking terms now?” Army starts fishing.

 

“No.   Yes.   I don’t know.”

 

“You and Ren looked pretty chummy when you walked in,” Army observes thoughtfully.

 

Rey shrugs.  “Actually, we argued most of the trip.”  When she wasn’t crying, that is.

 

“It looks like it cleared the air.”

 

“Maybe.”  Rey is noncommittal.  Mostly because she isn’t sure.

 

The chef appears with a steaming plate of breakfast now.  “Is the Leader coming back?” he asks when he sees the table of two, not three. 

 

“No.  Give me that.”  Army reaches for Kylo’s breakfast and substitutes that plate for his own.  “Don’t tell the medics,” he forbids Rey.   Then, Army starts eating his boss’s pancakes. 

 

 

 

 


	60. chapter 60

Kylo is not the utter mess of grief that Rey is, but he is very discouraged by the trip to Naboo.  How will they ever find Carl?   Their infant son is lost out of time and out of place.  Kylo might urge Rey to trust in the Force to resolve things because, well, what else can they do?  But he knows as well as she does that the Force doesn’t always yield happy endings.  It has an agenda separate and apart from his and Rey’s desires.  And that means his boy might emerge alive and well years from now.  Raised by anyone to believe anything.  Worse still, Kylo, Rey, and the Empire might be long gone by then.  Bin-Salman Jerard could be running things and long-lost Carl Skywalker Solo will make his surprise appearance as the unwitting enemy of the state.  He will be Luke Skywalker all over again.  The only consolation Kylo takes is that Darth Vitiate will still be around lurking somewhere ready to pounce.   His boy won’t get that old hobo Jedi Kenobi to guide him, he’ll get the immortal motherfucking Sith to end all Sith as his mentor.  And that’s something, at least.

 

But where is that guy?  Kylo would gladly listen to his old Master’s (admittedly correct) ‘I told you so’ lectures if he could have his help.  He would welcome one of Snoke’s cringe inducing ‘perhaps I was mistaken/your failure is complete/you have much to learn, young Solo’ themed rants if it meant gaining an ally.  The irony of the situation is not lost on Kylo.  He had been paranoid that Rey’s fearsome father would be the ultimate enemy.  That Vitiate would turn up to steal his Empire and ruin his life.  But then, Rey’s father turned out to be Snoke in disguise, so the Empire was arguably his anyway.  But, in a strange turn of events, Vitiate doesn’t seem to want it back.   And for all Vitiate’s talk of reuniting what remains of their family, he’s the one who disappears with no real explanation.  Leaving Kylo to sink or swim on his own. 

 

The jury is still out as to whether Darth Vitiate is trustworthy.  But there is no denying that meddling Sith has been helpful.  He sheltered Rey in exile and then revived her and Hux after their deaths.  He helped Kylo deal with Jerard’s plot with the hoax baby Carl.  Then, he reappeared publicly as Leader Snoke to bolster Kylo’s credibility.  That devious, clever Dark Lord has all sorts of tricks up his sleeve, Kylo suspects.  And though he had once chafed at the role of the Apprentice and sought to kill his Master, Kylo has come around to realizing how much he still has to learn about governing and defending his Empire.  And who better to learn from than the eternal Sith Emperor himself?  Plus, there is the Force angle.   Kylo is convinced that the sorcerer Darth Vitiate knows plenty he hasn’t taught anyone.   Participating in Rey’s resurrection has piqued Kylo’s desire to learn more of the magical Shadow Force traditions. 

 

So . . . where is that guy?   What did he find?  And what’s taking him so long?

 

During Vitiate’s absence, the enemy continues to be quiet . . . too quiet of late.  The media currently characterizes the war as a stalemate with frequent ancillary skirmishes, but no real decisive confrontations.  But Kylo knows better.  General Jerard is planning something.  His Plan A of finishing the Sithkiller Death Star to take out Coruscant may have failed, but Kylo is certain Plan B is in the works.  He just hasn’t discovered what Plan B is.  Jerard might lack for creativity, but he is every bit as determined and ruthless as the First Order he attempts to overthrow.   Jerard is proof that even without the Force, you can be a formidable foe.

 

So, it’s back to work for Leader Ren.  Tired though he is, a busy work day is probably what Kylo needs to take his mind off Rey and Carl.  He will focus on a problem he can actually do something about:  the enemy.  It’s a tried and true strategy.  For the entire year Rey was missing, he buried himself in work.  And ever since she returned to exile, Kylo has been obsessed with his war.  This commitment is his duty to his citizens and to his family legacy, but it’s also a very effective distraction.  Days like today, he needs this focus or his psyche will crumble from the weight of the responsibilities and problems resting on it.  The public at large may not see it, but it’s not easy to be Kylo Ren.

 

He ticks through his morning of meetings, has a working lunch with the Intel guys, and then drops in on one briefing after another, covering everything from the wartime economy to education to new weapon systems development.  Then, an aide discreetly whispers in his ear to remind him it’s almost three o’clock.  Time to heal Hux.  It’s a welcome chore today.  Force healing is a completely different mental exercise, so it’s a break of sorts.  Plus, this way Kylo can get another stim shot from the resident medics so he can power through the afternoon.  That overnight mission to Naboo is catching up with him as the day wears on.

 

Half an hour later, Kylo is deep in concentration healing Hux when his patient speaks.  “Hey, Rey.”

 

It startles Kylo.  He looks up and frowns.  “I told you to take a nap.”

 

“I did.  Hours ago,” Rey answers.  She walks forward into the makeshift infirmary from where she has apparently been lingering in the doorway unnoticed.   How long has she been there?  Kylo is uncertain.  He has been deep in the Force focused on healing.   

 

Kylo looks her over now.  Rey has ditched the borrowed First Order uniform and donned a dress.  Her hair is down and she has lipstick on.  She looks like her old Coruscant self, he notes with silent relief.   Less angry scavenger and more Senator wife.   And thank goodness those baggy, stained scrubs she seemed to sleep and live in for weeks are gone.  That look had just screamed ‘I’m depressed’ to Kylo.  This presentation is much better. 

 

If Rey is still super upset about what happened in the temple, it doesn’t show.  Either she’s being successful at suppressing that sadness or she’s dealt with it and moving on.   Other women might fall to pieces over what she’s been through.  But his Rey is a survivor who takes what life gives her and soldiers on.  That grit is her greatest strength and her most crippling weakness, Kylo knows.  Rey is far from the remote bitch she often comes off as.  His girl feels as deeply as anyone else.  She just has trouble acknowledging and expressing it.

 

But not with Hux.  Rey walks up to smile down at Hux.   Her easy rapport with the man is a bit galling.  There’s nothing romantic about it as far as Kylo can tell.  But still, he is extremely jealous.  Especially when Rey looks at Hux with such naked concern and caring.   

 

“Any better?” she asks softly. 

 

“Much better,” Hux affirms. 

 

Kylo scowls and tosses Hux’s wadded up undershirt at him.  “Here.  Cover up. There’s a lady present.”  

 

Rey is amused at this primness.  “Don’t mind me,” she giggles.

 

“She’s seen my chest.  She knows how ugly it looks,” Hux points out.

 

“It’s true. And for the record,” Rey corrects, “it’s not ugly.   Those are battle scars, Army.  You’re a hero.”

 

Kylo glances over at Hux’s scrawny, heavily scarred, mostly hairless chest that Rey apparently admires.  “When were you naked in front of my wife?” he growls.

 

“Ex-wife,” Rey amends.  And technically, she’s incorrect.  But Kylo lets it slide.

 

Good soldier that he is, Hux follows orders.   He sits up on the gurney he’s lying on and wiggles into the t-shirt. “Rey had to reboot me on one of our walks last week.”

 

Kylo is confused.  “But your implant is on your hip.”

 

“Yeah, I know that now,” Rey nods. “But I didn’t know it then. He collapsed and I was freaking out that he was dying on me—“

 

Hux shoots her an irked look.  “I wasn’t dying—“

 

“So I unbuttoned everything I could—“

 

“You did?” Kylo yelps.

 

“She did,” Hux confirms. 

 

“—until I felt around in his pants and found it. Crisis averted.  End of story,” Rey finishes. 

 

Kylo objects.  “Hey!  Keep your hands out of Robo Hux’s pants!”

 

“It was an emergency,” she informs him. 

 

Kylo has a better solution.  “Just let him die next time.  We can always revive him.”

 

“Don’t do that.   Please don’t do that,” Hux pleads to Rey. 

 

“I won’t do that,” she immediately agrees. 

 

Kylo grunts and glares his disapproval at them both.

 

“Back to work, Ren,” Hux prompts him. “We’re behind schedule.”

 

“Roger that.”  Kylo slips his hands under Hux’s t-shirt and tries to focus again.   But with Rey looming over his shoulder smelling of soft perfume, it’s hard.  Kylo glances back at her.

 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Rey responds to his raised eyebrows.  “I’m here to watch and to learn.”

 

“You want to learn to Force heal?” Kylo is surprised.

 

Rey nods.  “I thought if I could learn, maybe I could help Army.  And that would free you up some.”

 

“I’d like that,” Hux quickly volunteers.  It earns him a suspicious look from Kylo.

 

Teaching Rey to Force heal is not a bad idea, actually.  But this isn’t how to start.  “You should watch the holochrons,” Kylo advises.  “They cover all the basics.”

 

“I will.  But I also want to watch you,” Rey responds.  “You know I learn best by watching other people.”

 

It’s true.   Rey is something of a Force mimic.   True to form, after a few minutes of watching, Rey is anxious to participate in the healing. “Let me join.”

 

Kylo is reluctant.  “Why don’t you start with paper cuts?   Hux is a pretty high degree of difficulty for a beginner.”

 

“You do the work,” Rey suggests as she leans over to place her hands atop his hands on Hux’s chest.  “I just want to experience it.”  And now, Rey is distractedly close, with their heads almost touching. 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Kylo quickly agrees, if only to prolong this intimate posture. “This works.  But we need to be careful not to work at cross purposes.  Get in my head and follow my lead.  Feel what I feel.”

 

“Okay.”   Rey closes her eyes and summons the Force and nudges at his mind. 

 

Kylo can’t help it.  He gives an involuntary shudder as he lets her in.

 

“Wow, this is weird,” their patient speaks up.  Hux is peering at them both curiously. 

 

Rey reacts.  “It’s not weird.  I’m learning.”

 

Kylo agrees wholeheartedly.  He’s got Rey lurking in his mind and her hands on his hands.  It’s like old times when they were Master and Apprentice.  “It’s not weird.  It’s nice.”  Kylo smiles over at Rey warmly.  For once, she smiles back. 

 

Hux now recoils dubiously, looking from one to the other. “Good, because for a moment there it felt weird.  Super weird.  Like threesome weird.”

 

Kylo whips his hands off Hux.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

 

“Ewwww.”  Rey too scowls indignantly at their patient.  “Does he have an off button?   Or just his reboot button?” she asks Kylo.

 

“There’s no off button.  I’m always on, Rey, you know that,” Hux snickers.  “But for the record, threesomes are not my thing.”

 

Kylo groans at this oversharing.  “How did we get on this topic?” he complains.

 

“What??”  Hux is unrepentant.  “Look, I’m just saying—“

 

“You’re saying too much,” Rey informs Hux with a dirty look.

 

“Is there a mute button?” Kylo demands with a sneer.

 

“I don’t know.  Let me check.” Rey pretends to peek under Hux’s waistband. 

 

“Get out of his pants!” Kylo roars. “Honestly, Rey, have you no shame??”

 

“None.  None at all,” she answers blithely, her eyes dancing.  She’s enjoying getting him worked up. 

 

It prompts Hux to chuckle.  But then, he reverts to his usual self and starts fussing.  “Can you two stop flirting and heal me?   Ren, we have a holoconference in ten minutes with the Rim fleet commander.   They are the ones who intercepted the enemy chatter about a possible Core invasion.”

 

“Right.”  He forgot about that. Kylo is all business again.  “Rey, keep your hands in your lap.  You can help tomorrow. Today, you watch.”  He focuses one last time for about a minute before he pronounces, “Done.”

 

Healed Hux rolls off the table.  He starts tucking in his shirt and reaching for his uniform jacket.   And that’s when Kylo makes his move on Rey.  He’s got a big opening now with the Force healing idea she has proposed. 

 

But suddenly, Kylo is shy and uncertain.  Like she’s the hot popular girl at school and he’s, well, him.  The sullen loner who no one likes.  “So . .  you uh . . . want to watch those holochrons together?  I could uh give you some pointers  . . . if you want.  I’ve watched them all several times.”

 

Rey nods.  She’s distracted by Hux.   “Sure.  I’d like that.”

 

“You would?” Kylo yelps.  But he recovers fast.  “I mean, yeah.  Great.  Maybe tonight?”

 

“Is this a date?” Army smirks over at them.  And fuck that guy for saying that.  Kylo would shoot lightning at him, but Robo Hux might short circuit.  And then, Rey would be in his pants rebooting him. 

 

Luckily, Rey ignores the comment.  “Okay.  Tonight.  Are the holochrons still in your private office?”

 

“No.  But I’ll bring them,” Kylo volunteers.  He’s smiling like a lovesick fool now, but he can’t help it.  He’s thrilled at the prospect of some time alone with Rey.  “Drop by after dinner?”

 

“Oh, yeah, it’s a date.”  Hux gives them both a knowing look. 

 

“Shut up, Army, or I won’t heal you,” Rey snaps.  “This isn’t a date.  It’s the Force.  And it’s for you.”  Then she turns back to Kylo.  “Are there a lot of holochrons?”   

 

“There’s only about six that are critical to watch.   We can do a few tonight,” Kylo offers.  He’ll save the rest for later to ensure more opportunities with Rey.   Nighttime rendezvous in his private office sound good to him.

 

“Great.   See you later then,” Rey agrees. 

 

“Come on, General.”   Kylo glares at smirking Hux. 

 

“Grand Moff.   I’m a Grand Moff,” his Grand Moff corrects him.

 

“Whatever.”  Kylo isn’t one for titles.  “Back to work,” he orders.  “The galaxy won’t save itself.”

 

Kylo spends the remainder of the afternoon daydreaming his way through briefings.   His mind is on Rey. He decides to play this holonet office date thing low key.   Kylo had been pretty direct with Rey in the temple, so he feels like he should back off a bit.  He resolves that this evening will be friendly and they will stay focused on Force healing.  Hopefully, it will build a comfort level between them that they can build on.  For certain, there will be no screaming and no crying.  By either of them. 

 

Kylo ruminates on the upcoming evening so much that he makes himself nervous when the time comes. Rey is on the terrace eating dinner with Hux and one of Hux’s many buddies who drop by to check on him. Even with half the First Order officer corps defecting to the enemy, Armitage Hux still has plenty of friends and wannabe friends.  Hux has long been royalty among the Imperial exiled elite and now he’s a bona fide war hero for the cause as well.  The guy is way too popular.  It’s annoying.

 

Kylo won’t intrude, of course. Because if he even wandered out on the terrace that might look like he wanted to be included. Which he doesn’t.  Not really. So here he sits drumming his fingers on his desk holed up in his private office feeling like an outsider in his own Palace. He’s got podracing playing in the background as he drinks a beer and takes haphazard bites at a sandwich.   Kylo wants to project a casual vibe when Rey wanders by.   Like this is no big deal.  But does his hair still look okay?  Kylo pats a hand over his carefully combed mane. He’s making an effort even though he doesn’t want it to look like he’s making an effort.  He’s flying casual tonight.

 

But how long is that dinner going to go on? Doesn’t the Hux groupie know how weak the Grand Moff is? Hux needs to be in bed, not up gossiping with his cronies. Kylo concentrates a moment in the Force now. Yes, Rey has left.  He can sense her presence approaching.  She’s coming . . . she’s coming!  Kylo quickly pats his hair one last time and grabs his datapad to pretend to work.

 

Rey knocks. She actually knocks. This polite protocol is a departure for the girl who once chased him into a meeting in her underwear.  This is the girl who used to sit on the toilet in the bathroom while she held a conversation with him in the shower.  She doesn’t stand on ceremony as a rule.  Is Rey making a show of keeping her distance?  Because that’s not a good sign.  But, okay.  Kylo goes with it.  He waves a hand and the door slides open to admit her.

 

Rey steps in.  She looks at him.

 

Kylo puts down his datapad.  He looks back. 

 

Who talks first?  Does he talk first?  Rey is looking at him expectantly, so he begins.  “Good evening.” And wait, that sounds way too formal and intense.  It sets completely the wrong tone.

 

Rey nods gravely and stands with her hands clasped before her. She looks like she’s about to launch into one of her impassioned speeches on tolerance and justice in the Senate. Like she’s about to call him Supreme Leader instead of Kylo. Not like she’s here to perch in her chair with one foot tucked under her and the other one swinging. Not like she might laugh spontaneously and smile without being self-conscious.  Not like she’s happy to be here.

 

Fuck Hux for calling this a date.  This is all his fault, Kylo seethes.

 

But he also knows he hasn’t helped matters.  He’s said two words and he’s screwed things up already.  So this time, Kylo doesn’t talk. He just waves Rey into an open chair. And that too is a bad move. Because that’s a gesture of command he uses in his throne room. It’s not how he wants to relate to his girl. 

 

Nevertheless, Rey takes his cue. She sits ramrod straight on the edge of her chair. She looks stiff and uncomfortable.  Kylo stifles a sigh.

 

This is what they are reduced to.  Rey is only slightly less wary of him now than she was when strapped to an interrogation chair on the Starkiller.  Last night she had been vulnerable and crying on his shoulder.  But hours later, she has her guard up and she is arm’s length again.  The presence of Hux this afternoon had made Rey relax.  But now that it’s just the two of them, she’s on edge.  Yeah . . . he said too much last night.  He always goes just a little too far with Rey. Something about her eggs him on to extremes.  Kylo just cares too much not to dig in and make his feelings known.

 

She’s looking at him expectantly again, so he asks, “How was dinner?  Who was the visitor?”

 

Rey tells him about some captain whose younger brother is a lieutenant fresh out of the First Order military academy.  The captain has sided with Kylo and the younger brother has sided with Jerard.  And that’s the perfect illustration of the stakes of a civil war, Kylo thinks.  It’s brother against brother for the fate of the galaxy.

 

“I guess you don’t have to be a Skywalker to kill your kin for politics,” she observes glumly.

 

“I didn’t start this war,” Kylo reminds Rey.

 

“I know.”

 

“I feel like it was inevitable. I would have kept moving towards the middle and Jerard would have chosen some action to be the line in the sand I crossed.” Kylo holds her gaze. “Jerard was the aggressor.”

 

“I know.”

 

Kylo sighs and wipes at his forehead.  “I’m just sorry it has cost us and others so much.”

 

“I know.”

 

And fuck, this is the furthest thing from the light, casual vibe Kylo intends.  But this is the mood everywhere right now:  somber, reflective, worried.

 

He tries to draw Rey out by asking how Hux is really doing.  She tells him that Hux is pushing himself too hard but that’s probably his personality. I don’t think Army can do anything without giving it his all, she tells him.  The affection in her voice is hard to miss.  This will be his new angle, Kylo decides.  He’ll get on Rey’s good side by helping her friend.   It’s a win-win since Kylo needs Hux’s help as well.

 

Rey agrees that stamina is Hux’s biggest issue. And that’s a topic that Kylo can run with. It’s a good segue into the basic Force healing overview on the first holochron he brought. They watch it together. Rey asks a few questions. Kylo talks about how he has implemented the holochron’s teaching with Hux.  Kylo keeps the conversation focused on the Force and she begins to thaw a bit. Clearly, Rey feared he would start talking about their personal relationship.  Or worse, Carl.  But neither of them says anything about last evening.  It’s the elephant in the room topic that they are both reluctant to broach. 

 

Kylo pulls out a second holochron that deals with the psychological impacts of severe illness or injury. How to deal with a patient who will never be completely healed and how to help them handle the inevitable depression and identity crisis that follow.  It was Darth Vader’s favorite holochron, stored on his desk for easy access, Kylo reveals.   And that gets them discussing how the Light Side can uplift and encourage.  How it can strengthen the psyche in addition to strengthening the body.

 

The Dark Side does that too, Rey recalls aloud.   You punched your wound on the Starkiller to channel pain into Dark power.  To help me overcome the pain, Kylo finishes for her.  Her observation brings him back to his increasingly certain view that the Force is the Force.  As far as he’s concerned, the concepts of Dark and Light are relics of the past. Shorthand oversimplifications of concepts that are unnecessary in the modern era.  Like himself, Rey has been both Dark and Light.  But far more so than he, Rey is removed from the orthodoxy of the Force.  Kylo trained formally as a Jedi and then as Snoke’s version of ‘Sith-lite.’  But Rey doesn’t have formal schooling in anything, and that makes her approach very ad hoc and intuitive.  She’s also openminded in a way Luke Skywalker was incapable of being.

 

This is good, Kylo thinks, as they get into an abstract discussion of the Force.  It’s a conversation only they could have.  And, absent all the good versus evil moral and political context to the Force, it is a surprisingly a neutral topic.  Rey continues to visibly relax. She’s far more animated and engaged now. She’s not exactly easygoing, but she is considerably more chill. Even wandering around the room a little as they speak.  He’s loosened up too, kicked back in his chair with his feet propped on his desk.  It’s almost—but not quite—approaching their old rapport around each other.  With comfortable silences and easy give and take. 

 

It’s going very well until suddenly Rey apparently feels confident enough to drop a bombshell.  She’s facing away from him, looking out his office panoramic window when she takes a deep breath.  Watching her shoulders rise and fall, Kylo knows that something big—and likely bad—is coming next.   

 

Sure enough, Rey doesn’t disappoint.  “So . . .” she begins.  “After what happened on Naboo, I'm thinking about getting an apartment—“

 

“What?”  Did he hear that right?  Kylo puts his feet down and sits up in his chair.  She has his full attention now.

 

“I'm thinking about getting an apartment—“

 

“Absolutely not.”  Kylo stands to his feet.  Suddenly, he’s feeling threatened.

 

“And also a job—“

 

“You have a job.  You’re a Senator.”

 

“--so I can live independently.”

 

Rey turns to face him now as he skirts his desk and advances on her.  “I would come by daily to help Army.  I want to learn to heal--”

 

Kylo interrupts.  He’s heard enough.  He explodes, “Don't be a fool!   There's a war going on!   You’ve already been killed once!  You are NOT living on your own amid the general public!”

 

She ignores this tirade.  And now, Rey says the worst part:  “We can be friends.   Like tonight.  And like earlier today with Army.  That was good.  We were good.  It was nice.”  Her words are a sucker punch to the gut.  As Kylo stands there blindsided, she adds a depressing coda that twists the knife.  “We’ll always be family.  Our lives are linked and it’s more than just the bond.”  She flashes a weak smile.  “You’ll always be special to me, Kylo.”

 

He stands there blinking at her meaning.  Fuck.  This is goodbye.

 

Rey must see the hurt beneath his instant anger.  It prompts her to cross her arms and look defensive.  She explains in a small voice, “Moving on would give me a chance to start fresh.  To have something to focus my energies on other than mourning Carl.”

 

“He’s not dead!  He’s alive,” Kylo corrects her sharply.

 

Rey shakes her head.  “He might as well be dead . . . “  Her bleak face says it all.  And, frankly, it’s hard to argue with her.

 

Kylo swallows hard.  “Is this Hux’s idea?” he demands.

 

“No.  He’s actually been trying to talk me out of it.”

 

Good.  Kylo shifts tactics now.  Anger never gets him anywhere with Rey.  Instead, he tries to talk her down. “I think you’re overreacting to last night.  It’s too soon to give up hope.  And you shouldn’t make big decisions like this when you’re upset.”

 

She looks away, irritated.  “I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while.”

 

“Yeah?  How long?  Because you’ve only been alive six weeks—”

 

“Last night you asked me what I wanted.  I didn’t know then for sure, but now I do.  I want this.  I think it would be good for me to put some closure to the situation.“  Rey bites her lip and then adds in a hoarse voice, “I can’t spend my days waiting around for the Force to return Carl.  I’ll fall apart.  Kylo, I can’t live like that.”

 

“That’s your grief talking—”

 

“No, it’s not!  This is me wanting to start a path forward for something new.”  She looks up with tears shining in her eyes.  There is an edge of desperation to her tone that reminds him of her mood last night.  “Kylo, I need something positive in my life right now.” 

 

“And to do that, you have to leave me again?” he chokes out.  For this is his worst fear coming true—that Rey would be revived and healed and still walk out on him.  Fuck, Vitiate was right.  A Dark resurrection isn’t necessarily a happy ending after all.  Kylo feels like a fool for not having seen this coming.  Rey has been avoiding him the whole time since she awoke.  He gave her the space she said she wanted, and it was the distance that has enabled her to bid him goodbye.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispers.

 

“Why?  Why are you leaving me?” he grinds out.  They should be pulling together, not falling apart.  Not walking away.

 

“Why?  You want to know why?”  Rey points back and forth between them.  “This!  This right now is why.”

 

“Could you be more specific?”  Kylo is lost in her point.   “Because we could be happy together even without a child.”

 

Rey steps forward to poke him in the chest.  “You're the worst sort of man,” she condemns him softly. “Aggressive.  Overbearing.  Controlling.  Work obsessed.”

 

“Yes,” he breathes.  He owns who he is.  And none of that is news to Rey.

 

“You take whatever you want and you're proud of it.”

 

“Yes.”  The very nearness of her now is distracting.  Rey could be reciting the Jedi Code and Kylo would agree with it.   Hell, he’ll agree to anything she wants if it will get her to stay.  She’s making another terrible mistake.

 

But Rey continues her indictments, determined to make him the bad guy.  “You’re so dangerous.  You’re capable of anything.  Your ends always justify your means.”

 

“Yes.”   She’s so close now like she was this afternoon.  Only there is no Hux third wheel.  And just look at those inviting lips.  Tempting him even as she breaks his heart all over again.  This woman is the bad habit he can’t seem to quit and doesn’t want to.

 

“All that matters is what you want. What you need.  What I want never matters.”

 

That’s not true.  Not at all.  But Kylo agrees again anyway.  “You're so right.”  Then, he recklessly dives for her mouth.

 

It’s a futile attempt to resolve their argument with actions, not words.  To show Rey how much he loves her still.  It has been over two years since their last kiss.   But unlike their other recent awkward social interactions, kissing is just as effortless as Kylo remembers.  He and Rey have always had a strong physical attraction.  When they finally acted on their chemistry, it was like floodgates of forbidden desire were opened.  He craved this girl with a relentless passion that she matched in enthusiasm.  For in bed, as in the Force, he and Rey were equals.   He was usually the aggressor, but Rey gave as good as she got.  As if to belie her earlier words, tonight is no exception.

 

This time, she has the slightest hint of wine on her breath from dinner.  There's also a holochron with a decades dead Jedi playing on repeat in the background. They are in his office, not his bedroom.  Hux is down the hall falling asleep.  But whatever.  It’s perfect.   Kylo could do this forever.   For her part, Rey appears to agree.  Until, of course, she doesn’t.

 

She shoves him back hard.  “I can’t do this,” she exhales shakily. 

 

He accepts the rebuff, then reasons it away.  “You mean not yet.”   She looks up at his words and Kylo tells her what he firmly believes.  “We are inevitable.”  That kiss just made it official in his mind.   “But I can be patient.   When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

“Kylo, this is . . . this is . . .”  Rey doesn’t finish her thought.  She just stands there looking confused and flustered.  One hand to her lips.

 

Maybe he ought to be going back for more kisses with the aim of hustling Rey down the hall into his bedroom, but Kylo doesn’t want to overplay his weak hand.  And besides, there might be performance issues—he hasn’t slept in over thirty-six hours.  And so, mindful of Vitiate’s advice not to be his usual overbearing self, Kylo sucks up his instincts and backs off.  He doesn’t want to spend a glorious night together only to wake up and find Rey has fled in the night a third time.  Tonight’s rejection is enough.

 

“Slow down, Rey.”  It takes supreme self-control for Kylo to swallow the lump in his throat and offer, “Take the time to decide what you want.  You can move out, that’s alright.  Just don’t take stupid chances, okay?   Carl is going to need his mom when he comes home.”  Then, Kylo sadly confesses, “I need you, too.”

 

“All we ever do is hurt each other,” she half-whispers.

 

It’s true.  “We do that a lot,” he admits.  But he shrugs.  “Maybe love is like balancing the Force.  It’s not permanent. You have to keep working at it for the long haul.”   She looks at him curiously, so he adds, “Maybe that’s the point.  You hang in there through the rough bits, and then the good times come again.”

 

That thought gets through to her, silencing the quick retort he’s confident is coming next.  Instead, she replies thoughtfully.  “That sounds nice but it doesn’t happen.  No one ever hung around for me.   Not my Jakku parents.   Not even my real father.  And you killed all my Resistance friends.  Even Carl was taken from me.”

 

He gets it.  She’s had her losses and betrayals, and so has he.  “I understand.  My father skipped out on my mother and me early on.  Then my uncle tried to kill me.  You left me too.”  Kylo tries and fails to keep the blame from his voice on that last part.

 

Rey sighs and looks down.  Is that guilt that’s making her cheeks flush?  Or is she angry again?  She’s hard to read tonight.  He usually gets her wrong anyway lately. 

 

Kylo now gamely tries to move on from recriminations.  The past can’t be changed.  You just accept it and move on.  “We’ve both been victims of other’s mistakes and made mistakes of our own.  I don’t want to argue about all that.”

 

“Then what are you saying?”

 

He rubs at his eyes.  Feeling so tired and deflated.  But, like with everything else in his life, he soldiers on.  “I’m saying that I’m still here.  You won’t succeed in getting rid of me.  I’m not like all the rest.”

 

“I’m sorry, Kylo.  But I can’t make any promises for the future,” she warns.

 

“I know.”  He can’t hide the resentment as he predicts, “You’re just going to isolate yourself cloaked in the justification of independence.  And then, you’re going to be worse because you’ll be lonely.  Loners are always lonely.   You’ll be in Coruscant but you might as well be in Jakku,” he says nastily.  “And none of that self-imposed suffering will bring back Carl or make you happy.  You’ll see.”

 

His words hit home.  For a minute, Rey looks stricken and scared, then she recovers.  Lifting her chin, she announces, “I did this before after your mother died.  I started over with nothing and no one.  I can do it again.”  She scowls at him one last time before she heads for the door.  “Good night,” she hisses.

 

“Three o’clock,” he calls after her fast retreating form.  Rey is upset and her body language shows it clearly.  She’s running away as quickly as she can.  It’s always her response to an emotional scene.  She starts the drama and then flounces off.  Because while Kylo chooses fight, Rey invariably chooses flight.

 

Rey ignores him, so Kylo hollers after her, “Three o’clock tomorrow is when we heal Hux.  Be there.” It comes out as a gruff order because he’s pissed and angsty too.  Picking up the precious holochron that is still playing in the background, Kylo heaves it hard against the far wall.  Why is the Force doing this to him, he wonders as he sinks back into his chair and puts his head in his hands.

 

 

 


	61. Chapter 61

Rey lingers over breakfast with Army.  He doesn’t have a meeting to get to yet and she has nowhere to be.  So she confides the gist of her conversation with Kylo last night.  Omitting the part about the kiss, of course.  Army listens thoughtfully and then observes, “He took that better than I expected.”

 

And that’s not exactly how Rey sees it.  She frowns at her friend.  “You mean because he didn’t light his sword and threaten to kill someone unless I agreed to stay?”

 

“He’s Ren.  He’s not known for his finesse or tact,” Army points out.  “So, when is this big move happening?”

 

“I don’t know.  I thought I would scout out some neighborhoods today.  Once I narrow it down, it will take a few days to get a place.  But there’s nothing to move.”  All Rey owns are the clothes Mrs. Faris foisted upon her.  “I suppose I will need to buy some furniture . . .”

 

Army peers at her from over the rim of his cup.  “Do not get another hole-in-the wall, rat infested place down on the Lower Level.  That was intolerable.  I refuse to visit you there.”

 

Rey bristles at his description.  “There were no rats in my apartment.”

 

“Probably because there was no edible food.  Just your water and rations stash.  Have you started a new one here yet?  Because a siege of Coruscant is a real possibility these days.”  He’s joking but serious all the same.

 

“It’s done.  Kylo ordered Mrs. Faris to clean out a closet for me.   Then, he had it filled up,” Rey reports.

 

Army raises his eyebrows.  “That was pretty thoughtful for him.”

 

“Yeah, it was,” Rey concedes. 

 

“Some men give flowers.  Some men give diamonds.   Some give bottled water,” Army sneers.  “Trust it to Ren to be a big spender.  He really knows how to impress a girl.”

 

“You can’t drink flowers or eat diamonds,” Rey points out defensively. 

 

“True.  And you’re not exactly the ride-or-die chick who gets rewarded with flashy bling for your steadfast loyalty to the man and his cause,” Army shoots back with a knowing look. 

 

Rey just shrugs.  Her politics are not exactly news to anyone.  And, at least initially, Kylo said he wanted her to champion the Light.

 

“Do you even own any jewelry?” Army wonders aloud.

 

“I used to own a wedding ring that belonged to Kylo’s mother.”  Who knows where that is now?  She was wearing it when she died is all Rey knows.

 

“That was the source of your bad luck right there,” Army decides.  He does not hide his distaste for his old Resistance foe.

 

That touches a nerve.  Rey glares across the table.  “General Organa was a great woman.”

 

“Great at killing people.  For all her talk of peace, that woman had a very high body count.”

 

“All the Skywalkers do.”  The original Chosen Ones are a deadly bunch.  “She was like a mother to me there at the end,” Rey recalls wistfully.  “I sort of loved her like a mother . . .”

 

Army rolls his eyes. But then he reverts to the topic Rey can’t stop obsessing about—Kylo.   “You know that Ren loves you, right?”  When Rey doesn’t immediately respond, Army demands, “Right?”

 

Rey looks down at her plate.  “Love is not enough.” 

 

“I know.”  Something in the way Army says those words tells Rey there is a story behind them.  But when she opens her mouth to ask, he shakes his head.   “Don’t go there.”

 

“Who knew you were so sentimental?” Rey gripes.

 

“I’m not.  But love is not something you should casually throw away.” 

 

Here comes more unsolicited advice from Army Hux about why she shouldn’t move out of the Palace. Rey attempts to shut down that conversation before it begins anew.   “Look, I have thought long and hard about this.  And moving out doesn’t mean Kylo and I can’t be friends.” 

 

“Friends is not what he wants and you know it,” Army states plainly.  “Are you going to ask for a divorce now too?”  

 

“I suppose I ought to.”  Rey isn’t exactly sure what the legal status of her marriage is.  Not that it matters.  When your husband/ex-husband is the Supreme Leader, he can make things up as they go along.  The Rule of Law doesn’t really mean much where she and Kylo are concerned, Rey suspects.    

 

“Give it a few weeks,” Army counsels.  “Slow down.   Lest Ren finally lose it, light his sword, and you lose your head.” 

 

“You give the best pep talks,” Rey deadpans as she glares across the table again.

 

“You know the man as well as I do,” Army informs her, “Probably better.  Patience is not his virtue.  And if you’re dead, who will walk with me in the mornings?  I’ll be stuck with that grouchy rehab nurse again.  That woman is a horrid nag.”

 

“It’s always about you, isn’t?”

 

“Mostly, yes.”  Armitage Hux is unrepentant about it, too.  “What kind of apartment do you want?”

 

Rey thinks a moment.  “One bedroom.  Near the public transport.  Near work.  Nothing fancy.  I don’t do fancy.” 

 

“Yes, I know, ghetto girl,” Army drawls.  “So . . . near the Senate?”

 

Rey shakes her head.  “I’m thinking of resigning from the Senate.” 

 

“This is news.”  Army puts down his cup and frowns.  “When were you planning on telling me that?  Or are you officially giving notice right now?”

 

“You’re not the Chancellor any longer, Army.  You’re not my boss.”

 

“Ren’s your boss.  And that was a lifetime appointment.  Do you get to resign a lifetime appointment?”

 

“Why not?” Rey challenges.

 

“Ren is why.  Ren might think quitting the Senate is worse than asking for a divorce.  You know he wants you as his liberal foil in public.”

 

Rey brushes aside this concern.  “I was never cut out for that role.”

 

“Yes, you were.   You were terrifically self-righteous as our token Resistance girl,” Army grins.    “You and Ren were the odd couple of the Empire.  Thanks to my ghostwriting your speeches, of course.”  He leans forward in his chair to inform her, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

 

“None of that seems relevant any longer.  Not with the way the war is going,” Rey grumbles.

 

These days, Kylo Ren has shockingly high popularity compared to a few years ago.  The public has largely shifted to embrace his agenda given the alternative is Bin-Salman Jerard’s fascist caliphate.   Where do the Old Republic/Rebellion/New Republic/Resistance values fit in the context of a ‘First Order lite versus First Order hardline’ debate?  Rey isn’t sure.  But in wartime, a lot of civil liberties issues fall onto the backburner.   Due process and freedoms get shoved aside while military objectives take precedence.  And maybe that is fitting given the existential threat posed by Jerard’s rival First Order, but it doesn’t make Rey’s role in the Senate seem very important.

 

“So after you convince Ren to quit the Senate, what’s next?  Will you go back to working as a mechanic?   Because then you’ll be in the Lower Levels for sure.  Coruscant is expensive,” Army warns.  “There is no working class to speak of here.”

 

“I know.”  Rey now floats an idea she’s be toying with for a while.  “Actually, I’ve been thinking of going to school.” 

 

“Oh.”  Army blinks.  “Didn’t see that coming.  Okay . . . so you want a flat near Coruscant University?”

 

Rey squirms a little in her seat.  She’s self-conscious about her lack of formal education just like she’s touchy about her Jakku survival stash.  “Do you think I could get in?”  It’s an honest question.

 

Army gives her a frank answer.  “You’re Kylo Ren’s wife.  Of course, you can get in.”

 

“I mean on my own merit.” 

 

“Then, no.”  Rey makes a face and Ren counters, “Well, you asked.  Rey, you are exceptionally intelligent but you have no credentials.  The Force won’t impress the admissions officers.  Well, not unless you choke them, I suppose,” Army adds as an afterthought.    

 

“I guess not,” Rey grumbles.  She’s very aware of her academic shortcomings. It’s why she wants to do something about it.

 

Suddenly, Army yelps, “Ren!” as he shoots her a sharp, head’s up look of warning.

 

Rey whirls in her seat.  She finds Kylo stomping into the kitchen to toss something at her. “Here.”

 

Rey reflexively catches the small object without even looking.  Because she is very distracted at Kylo’s unexpected appearance.  Kylo never shows up at breakfast.   But here he is.  For a moment, all Rey can think about is last night’s kiss.  This man has a magnetic pull to his brooding charisma.  Kylo Ren is a mistake that Rey knows she might easily make again if she’s not careful.

 

“What is it?” Army asks, looking to her.

 

Kylo answers.  “It’s a datafile with the encrypted key codes to the apartment.  Rey, Mrs. Faris will take you over this morning and get you settled.  The security will be the same as last time, except I want you to fly an unmarked Palace speeder.  Nothing with ‘Jedi Girl’ license plates. That’s just asking for trouble.”

 

Rey turns the datafile over in her palm, deciding.  She feels both men’s eyes watching her closely.  “This is the Skywalker apartment?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

Rey places the datafile on the table and refuses.  “I’m not living there.” 

 

“Why not?” Kylo demands.

 

Why not?  Isn’t it obvious?  “There’s too much history there.” 

 

“Yes, and the history is my grandparents’.  Not ours.” 

 

Hardly, Rey thinks.  That apartment is where they got married in the worst coercive, makeshift ceremony ever.  And that was after Kylo first made her get on her knees and pledge to him as Master before she sucked his dick to seal the deal.  It’s the place where she threw men to their deaths in a fit of Dark petulance.  So, no—Hell no—is that a place where she can start over.  Rey physically pushes the datafile away to underscore the point.  “No, Kylo,” she resists quietly.

 

He locks eyes with hers and it’s a contest of wills for a long, silent moment.

 

Hux, naturally, inserts himself.  “I’ve seen that apartment.  It’s a nice place.  A very nice place.   Darth Vader had good taste.” 

 

“It’s lovely, but that’s not the point.” Rey shoots Army a dirty look.  “Stay out of this.”

 

But Hux being Hux, he persists.  “I suppose you could live in my apartment.  I’m not living in it currently.  And it’s close by the Palace.”

 

“Hmmmm . . . I guess there’s that option,” Rey muses, thinking fast.  “And, it would be already furnished so I wouldn’t have to buy stuff . . .”

 

“It needs to be cleaned, I warn you.  I haven’t been back there since I died, but Mrs. Faris has.  She said it is a bit of a mess,” Army reports.

 

“I can clean it.   That’s no problem,” Rey quickly warms to the idea.  “How much for the rent?”

 

“For you?  Rent free,” Army says magnanimously.  Then, he looks to his boss.  “Are you okay with this?”

 

The answer is immediate.  “Yes.  This is an excellent idea.  Let’s go check it out.”

 

“Now?” Rey blinks.

 

“Now,” Kylo decrees.  “Let’s go.” 

 

Five minutes later, their trio is whizzing through the poshest parts of the Upper Level in a Palace speeder.  Their craft is flanked by two speeder escorts full of praetorian guards.  High overhead, Rey spies two TIE fighters tracing their movements.  It’s an awful lot of security compared to the days when she and Kylo used to wander around incognito before the war.

 

“Straight ahead, next left,” Army tells the speeder pilot.

 

“I’ve never seen your bachelor pad,” Rey teases her friend.  “Is it going to be full of souvenir bras and panties from all the girls you’ve taken home?”

 

“Hardly.”  Hux actually blushes as he shoots her a quelling look.   It’s a rare moment when the Grand Moff is less than completely confident.

 

“This is Hux you’re talking about, right?” Kylo snorts.  “His place is more likely to have obscure military treatises than panties from one-night stands.”

 

Rey sticks up for her friend.  “Army is the most eligible bachelor of the First Order.  Girls on the holonet are crazy for Army.  Even more so now after he died.” 

 

Kylo slants her a pained look.  “Rey, you know better than to believe what you read on the holonet.”

 

“Well, I think he’s a catch,” she announces loyally. “Army, how come you never settled down?  Too busy?”

 

“I’m divorced.”

 

“That’s right.  I forgot.”

 

“Well, technically it was annulled, but the point is the same.  I did the marriage thing and it didn't work out.  Not doing that again,” Army says vehemently.

 

Rey wholeheartedly agrees, “I know how you feel.”

 

“Hey!” Kylo objects.  He gives her a sharp look of reproof.  “I resent that remark.”

 

“Don’t start, you two,” Hux tells them both.  “Here we are.   Pull in the drivepath,” Army instructs the speeder pilot.  “You can leave it in the valet line for now.”  Army explains to Rey, “There are no private landing pads at this building, unlike Chez Skywalker.  You’re slumming it here.”

 

It sure doesn’t look like they are slumming it, Rey thinks as they walk into the fancy lobby.  The doorman gives Army a mock salute as they approach, “Good morning, Chancell--General.”

 

Army nods his acknowledgement but mutters under his breath, “Moff.  Why does no one remember I’m a Moff?”

 

But the doorman instantly forgets about his resident celebrity because Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is here.  “Oh, er.  Sir.   Leader, Sir.”  The doorman drops to one knee.   “We are honored by your presence,” the man stammers.

 

Kylo nods regally, Rey stifles a giggle at this pomposity, and Army ushers them into the elevators.  “Come on.   Thirty-second floor.”

 

Rey starts asking lots of questions now.  “Is that doorman always on duty?  And do I have to tip the valet every time I park my speeder?  How long does it take for them to bring the speeder around when you ask for it?  Because I am terrible at waiting.  And what about . . .   Oh.  Yikes.”

 

The rest of Rey’s questions die on her lips when the elevator opens directly into Army’s flat. 

 

It is a shambles. 

 

Rey looks to Army.  He just sighs. 

 

Kylo doesn’t look shocked at all.  Apparently, he expected this.

 

As the enter, Rey looks in silence at the overturned furniture.  Some of it is splintered and slashed.  Whoever did this was determined to make a mess.  It looks like the place has been utterly trashed by vandals.  Rey follows the trail of broken glass crunching underfoot into the kitchen. There she finds that the cabinets have been emptied and the dishes smashed.  The floor is thick with cracked pottery and glass shards.  Rey keeps wandering and finds that the bathroom mirror is cracked as well.  Someone took the time to scrawl ‘Die Traitor Rebel Scum’ across it.  And that insult seems to annoy Army the most.  He bristles at the slur of being called a rebel.  It strikes Rey as fairly minor in the context of all the deliberate destruction, but proud Armitage Hux takes clear offense.  Wrecking his stuff is one thing, but insulting his honor is another.

 

Kylo now says aloud what Rey has already realized.  “Jerard’s hit squad came here looking for Hux but he had already left for Naboo.  They came up empty handed and vented their frustration.”

 

“How petty of them to make this mess,” Army sniffs.  “Mrs. Faris said it was bad, but I never imagined it was this egregious.”

 

Rey concurs.  She points to a dark scorch mark on the floor.  “Look.  They even shot the rug.” 

 

“No,” Army corrects her.  “That’s where they killed my cat.” 

 

“Ewwwww.”  Rey leaps back from the spot.  Then, she apologizes.  “I’m sorry, Army.”

 

At her side, Kylo drawls, “You had a cat?   Of course, you had a cat.  Guys like you always have a cat.”  His face is an amused smirk.  “Well, RIP Fluffy Hux.”

 

Perturbed Army shoots his boss a vicious look.  “Tarkin.  His name was Tarkin.”  That revelation makes Kylo’s lips twitch some more.  “Stop laughing!” Army is stiffly indignant as he looks from Kylo to Rey.  “You too!  Stop laughing!  I loved that cat!”

 

“Only you would have a cat named Tarkin,” Kylo shakes his head as he smirks even harder.

 

“I’m sorry, Army,” Rey says again.  But even she can’t help smiling a bit.

 

“Tell you what.  I’ll buy you a new cat,” Kylo offers.  “You can name it Palpatine.”

 

“That’s not funny,” Army hisses.  “I loved that old cat.  Tarkin was the most valuable thing here,” he adds glumly.

 

Rey follows his eyes to sweep the room again.  Beneath the mess of the ransacked apartment, you can tell that it was once nattily stylish and neat as a pin.  Just like it’s owner, Rey thinks.  She turns to Army now.  “I’m so glad you weren’t here.”  But she knows as well as he does that the ending was still the same:  Hux died either way.  Still, at least his heroic jaunt to Naboo saved baby Carl.  For without Army, Rey would never had made it to the temple.  And though he is lost, at least her son lives, even if he’s out of place and out of time currently. 

 

Seeing the destroyed apartment is a good reminder for Rey that the enemy is ruthless.   And, you don’t have to be high profile Armitage Hux to get this treatment.  All across the Empire, random Senators have been dragged from their homes for execution.    All because they participated in Kylo Ren’s lip service nod to democracy. Rey knows that as the Resistance-loving, Republic-leaning wife to Kylo Ren, she will be a prime target once the enemy discovers that she’s alive.  Rey blinks fast now as she reconsiders living within the confines of the Palace.

 

“Well, Rey, what do you think?” Kylo solicits.  “Would you like to die here?  Hux almost did.  His entire security detail in the lobby died, as did several civilians who got in the way.”

 

Rey looks around at the sobering mess and swallows hard.   Is freedom worth this risk?  Is putting distance between her and Kylo worth these potential consequences?

 

Kylo continues pressing his case.  “There are Jerard loyalists embedded everywhere in our forces.  Based on past experience, we have to assume that they exist in all ranks and at all locations.  They are sleepers, waiting to be activated.  Any one of them could show up here to kill you,” Kylo warns.  At his side, Army nods his grim agreement.  “I have personally interrogated everyone who works at the Palace to ensure their loyalty.  That at least provides a perimeter of security.  But you would have none of that here.”

 

Army adds his two credits now.  “That’s why I live at the Palace.”

 

“You live there for the immediate medical help.  And so you can take your afternoon nap,” Rey protests softly.

 

Hux disagrees.  “I live there because it’s not safe anywhere else.  And because I’ve already died once.  I don’t want to die again.  Not at the hands of those loathsome traitor thugs.”

 

“Is the Skywalker apartment any safer than this place?” Rey wonders aloud.

 

“Marginally,” Kylo answers.  “It has a preexisting security perimeter, which this apartment does not.  And with the rooftop location and private landing pad, few people will see you come and go.  It will be harder to track your whereabouts.  Plus, you always have a speeder available as an escape route. Here, there’s only one way in and one way out.  Once they trap you, you’re caught.”

 

“Yeah . . . ”  That all makes perfect sense.  Rey is enough of a survivor to know that living here—or anyplace like it—will be a foolhardy risk.  Suddenly, Kylo’s earlier offer is looking like the best alternative.  

 

“Well?  Seen enough to decide?” Kylo prods her.  “Can we go back to the Palace now and put this move idea on hold?”

 

“I’ll take the Skywalker apartment,” Rey counters. 

 

That’s not the answer Kylo is hoping to hear.  He purses his lips in displeasure, but he accepts it.  “That’s settled then,” he mutters with marked lack of enthusiasm.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Army grumbles.  He can’t leave fast enough.  Frankly, Rey can’t blame him.

 

But once their trio is back in the elevator, Rey starts bargaining.  It’s an old habit from her Jakku scavenger days.  “In exchange for staying at the Skywalker apartment with as much security as you decide, I want to resign from the Senate.”

 

Kylo doesn’t take that news well either.  His eyes narrow and his brow furrows.  “Why?”

 

“I’m going to school,” she announces.  “I want to go to college.”

 

“No.”

 

“No??” she reacts. 

 

“I told you so,” Army interjects, looking smug at being proven right.

 

Rey shoots him a glare.  “Shut up.”  Then she looks to Kylo.  “What’s wrong with school?”

 

“Nothing.  But your service in the Senate is a lifetime appointment.  You serve at my discretion, not yours.  When the Senate reconvenes, I want you in it.  Rey, I need your help.”

 

“But I want to go to school.  I want to learn,” she persists.  “I want a degree.”

 

“What for?”

 

“So I can get a good job and start a career.”

 

“Being a Senator isn’t a good enough job for you?”  Kylo raises an eyebrow.  “Then how about being my First Lady of the galaxy?  You can have as much of a hands-on policy role as you want.  Just choose your issues.”

 

Yikes!  Rey blinks.  She’s taken aback.

 

Hux blinks too.  “Wait a minute--that sounds like my old job as Chancellor.”

 

“Except for the fancy dresses, public handholding, and adoring looks at Leader Ren for the cameras, you’re probably right,” Rey grumbles.  But Kylo is missing the point.  “I want to learn,” she digs in.  “I’ve never had any formal schooling.”  Rey feels her face color.  “You know what Jakku is like . . . “  This is something Rey really wants to do for herself. 

 

Kylo thinks for a moment.  “Okay, ruling the galaxy with me can wait.  I have a better idea that will allow you to learn and still serve the Empire.  Rey, you are hired as the Empire’s official Force priestess.   Spend your days with holochrons and meditation.   Learn the Force and deepen your power.  That’s more important than college.”

 

“Official Force priestess?”  Army looks to them both curiously.  He is back to his usual self now that they have exited his depressing apartment.  “Is that a thing?  Because I never knew we had a state religion.”

 

Rey shakes her head. “It’s not a thing.  He’s making it up.”

 

“It’s a thing,” Kylo maintains.  “I just made it a thing.  The Force is now everyone’s official faith.  The next crop of Senators can swear ‘so help me Force’ or whatever.”

 

“Oh, Gods,” Rey groans.

 

“Oh, Force,” Kylo corrects her with maximum sanctimony.  “Get it right, priestess.”

 

“Maybe I do need to be in the Senate,” Rey says acidly, “if only to argue for freedom of religion.”

 

“By Force, I think you’ve got yourself a job,” Hux snickers at her.   

 

Rey doesn’t miss a beat.  “Well, Force-dammit,” she retorts, “I quit.”

 

“Do not,” Hux chortles back with mock severity, “take the Force in vain.”

 

“I am not amused by this blasphemy,” Kylo intones.  “The Force will forsake you if you mock it.”

 

Hux can’t stop laughing. “Watch out, Rey.  Lightning might strike you down.”

 

“Force lightning,” Rey adds before she succumbs to giggles.

 

“Stop it.  Stop it both of you!” Kylo growls. “You’re only alive thanks to the Force.”

 

“Same for you,” Rey points out.   

 

“You’re only back to being alive thanks to the Force,” Kylo amends.  They are exiting the lobby now, heading for the idling speeder.  “Get in.  I’m late for work.”

 

“I still want to go to school.”  Rey isn’t letting go of that issue.

 

“Your special talent is the Force,” Kylo informs her.  “And for that, you don’t need to go to college.  You need to study the holochrons.”

 

“But I want a real education.”

 

“Maybe after the war is over,” Kylo gives a little.  “But for now, you’re not going to be wandering around Coruscant U and spending weekends at frat parties.  That’s way too dangerous for someone in your position.”

 

“I don’t have any position,” Rey gripes.  “We’re divorced and I’m resigning from the Senate.  I’m a private citizen again.”

 

“Even if I agreed to all that—and I’m not,” Kylo argues back, “you are still Snoke’s daughter and the mother of my heir.  That alone makes you a target.”

 

“He’s right,” meddlesome Army inserts himself yet again.

 

Rey scowls pointedly at both men.  “This discussion isn’t finished,” she declares.

 

That very day, Rey moves into the Skywalker apartment. But she presents herself at the Palace at three o’clock to observe Kylo’s Force healing for Army.   The two men talk war the entire time while Rey simply watches.  Then, they are off to a meeting together and Rey hitches a lift back to her new place from a Palace security detail.

 

As she suspected, it’s impossible to hang out in the luxurious historic setting without thinking of the past.  And it’s not just her past with Kylo that’s on Rey’s mind.  It’s also the shifting fortunes of his family and the galaxy at large.  So much has changed in Rey’s life and in the Empire, and yet she finds herself back living in Darth Vader’s old apartment once again.  Maybe the more things change, the more they remain the same.  Or maybe Kylo is right and they are inevitable, with lives forever intertwined.  Because for better and for worse, she and the latest Skywalker prince seem destined to remain connected somehow.  And perhaps that shouldn’t be much of a revelation, Rey muses ruefully.  Because before she ever met Kylo Ren, the Force was sending her visions of him and giving her his grandfather’s lightsaber.  It’s like the cosmos couldn’t wait for them to meet.

 

Sure enough, hours later Kylo shows up at the apartment.  He marches right into the living room where Rey is relaxing in the most casual clothes she owns, reading her datapad.

 

She sits up and levels him a look.  “Who let you in?” She hasn’t even been here a full day before Kylo starts coming around.  He’s even dressed in civilian clothes like he used to wear to visit.  And maybe he feels entitled because he owns the place.  And because they used to spend so much time here together.  But still . . . the point of moving out of the Palace is to establish some boundaries.  To declare some independence.  

 

Kylo ignores her snippy welcome.  He hefts up the giant pack of water bottles he’s carrying and dumps it with grand flourish on the couch.  “I brought you a housewarming gift.  To start your new stash.”

 

Rey smiles despite every intention to the contrary.  Kylo knows her well.  “Is this a peace offering?” She gestures to the water. 

 

“No.  It’s water.  I also brought you a speeder.”

 

Rey raises an eyebrow.  “Is that a peace offering?”

 

“No.  It’s a speeder.  Come, check it out.“

 

Kylo beckons her onto the terrace with the four loitering praetorian guards.  There he proceeds to give her an overview of her brand-new ride.  “I brought you one of the regular Palace passenger speeders.  Don’t let the nondescript styling fool you.  It’s armor plated as well as any spacecraft.  It has recessed laser turrets out the front and back.  There is absolute privacy when you close the cockpit roof.  Full shielding too. You couldn’t get in a fender bender in this if you tried, Rey.  But if you do, just keep going.  It could be a trap.”

 

“Nice,” Rey approves as she walks a perimeter around the vehicle.  Like all the Palace speeders, it is matte black with tinted windows and a boxy profile.  It’s more slick than sleek, but Rey will take it. 

 

Kylo keeps up his briefing.  “There are no traceable plates.  All the speeders look the same from the exterior, and that’s intentional.  We use it to our advantage with decoy drills to confuse any surveillance.  There will be another identical speeder flying to and from this apartment several times a day just to confuse things.  The speeders in the fleet are distinguished only by their call sign back to the Palace com tower.  You’re Rogue Two.”

 

The name makes her smile.  It also makes her curious. “Who’s Rogue One?”

 

“My speeder.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“Your speeder will be monitored constantly so we always know where it is.  So, if you get in trouble, try to stay at or near it so we can find you fast.  See that big red button on the dashboard?  Hit it if you suspect you are being followed or if you sense danger.  It will automatically alert us to send backup.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“This thing handles fine, nothing special.  And it guzzles fuel.”

 

“Yeah, okay.  I could probably fix that,” Rey thinks aloud.

 

“Go ahead. Take a wrench to it, if you want.  Just don’t tinker with the com equipment and the trackers.”

 

Rey nods her agreement.    

 

“Want to take it for a spin?” Kylo offers.  “Hop in.”

 

Rey grins.  “Yeah, okay.  But how are you getting home?”

 

“You’re dropping me off,” Kylo informs her as he folds his tall frame into the passenger seat.  “But first, we’re going for pizza in the park.  I’m hungry.  Have you had dinner?”

 

Rey is surprised at his suggestion.  “Can you do that now that everyone has seen your face?”

 

He shrugs.  “I take a few risks now and then.  You’re not the only one who likes to live dangerously,” Kylo grins conspiratorially over at her. 

 

Rey reflexively smiles back.  But then, she catches herself and looks away fast.   Because that sardonic, lopsided bad boy smirk of his gets her every time.

 

“I don’t know . . . ” she hesitates, feeling a bit spooked.  Suddenly, this feels like one of their old dates.

 

“Come on,” Kylo cajoles.  “It’s just dinner between friends.”  Emphasis on the words ‘friends.’

 

“Yeah.  Okay,” she relents.  Rey puts the speeder in gear and takes off.  Soon, they are weaving through Coruscant’s famously snarled traffic.  “It’s been a long time since we did this,” Rey recalls aloud.  “Remember the time you got pulled over by your own Palace cops?”

 

“That seems like so long ago,” he nods.

 

“Yeah . . .   A lot has happened since then,” she murmurs.  It’s the understatement of the year.  Perhaps the century.

 

“Do you remember where to go?” 

 

“I remember.  I remember everything,” Rey answers softly.  After that, the rest of the ride to their destination is in silence.

 

The park is empty at this time of night.  Rey parks the speeder up front and they climb out.  Immediately, Kylo is recognized, but that doesn’t seem to trouble him.  As they walk up to the pizza stand, the guy behind the counter nods and calls out.  “Hey there, Boss.  How’s the war going?”

 

“About the same.   Got anything left, or am I too late?”

 

“We never sell out for you, Boss.  I always save a slice of supreme in case the Supreme Leader drops by.”

 

“I’ll take it.”

 

“What’ll it be for the lady?” the pizza guy asks, looking over at Rey.

 

“Whatever has the least amount of vegetables,” Kylo answers for her.

 

“Sounds good,” Rey ratifies this choice.

 

Together they sit on a bench, chewing greasy pizza and washing it down with beer.  It’s low key and surprisingly easy feeling, Rey thinks.  It’s like old times, but in a good way.  She’s chill, he’s chill.  Neither of them seems in a mood to fight tonight.  It gets them talking.

 

“This move is good for me,” Rey says aloud.  “I want to make my own choices again.”

 

He slants a hopeful glance over her direction.  “We could make choices together, you know.”

 

“When did we ever do that?” she counters.  Her voice isn’t heated, it’s more matter of fact.  “You always got your way.  Even if it meant pointing swords at little kids to do it.”

 

“I guess,” Kylo concedes.  “But it doesn’t feel like I’ve gotten what I want.   Not at all.”  He stretches his long legs out before him as he wonders aloud, “I guess I overreached?  Did I want too much?”

 

“It’s more that you tried to command me all the time.  It wasn’t necessarily what you wanted that was the problem.  It was how you went about it,” Rey answers slowly.  “You saw the lesson with your Empire to back off and control less.   But somehow, you never saw that with me . . .”  She wishes he had.  Because then, they might have lasted and been happy together.

 

Kylo looks her in the eye to explain, “I didn’t want to lose you.  But I did anyway.  First, you left.  Then, you died.  Now, you’re back and we’re--”

 

“Friends,” Rey quickly supplies the word. 

 

“Are you really quitting the Senate?” he asks.

 

“That power couple thing was your dream, not mine.”

 

“What is your dream?”

 

To get Carl back.  But after their trip to Naboo, Rey knows that dream is beyond her control.  So, she gives voice to her new alternative plans.  Part of life, she’s learning, is that dreams fade and dreams change.  On Jakku, all Rey wanted was to find her family.  Then, she found the Force and wanted to become a Jedi.  That didn’t work out and the Resistance lost the war.  Then her father surfaced and again Rey wanted to reunite her family.  And that has led her to now.  To a missing child, to a strained relationship with Kylo, and to a Sith Lord father who is off on some quest in the Unknown Regions.  It’s an unwelcome truth for Rey to learn that what you think you want isn’t always what is right for you.  And even if you get what you want, it may have big strings attached.  Plus, along the way, circumstances change and you can change your mind.  Life is adapting and coping, she now knows.  Whether it’s the extreme hardship of survival on Jakku or just the challenges of personal relationships, nothing is ever easy.  And for the girl raised from the dead to a missing son and a galaxy at war, things seem especially bleak right now.  She’s craving something positive in her life.

 

“I really want to go to school,” she tells Kylo.  “I want to be more than a mechanic.”  After all that has happened, Rey feels entitled to focus on herself for once. 

 

“But you’re a Senator,” Kylo protests.  He doesn’t understand her view.  Not at all.  Because for a Skywalker like himself, ruling the galaxy is the be-all, end-all goal in life.  Who could ask for anything more?  Not Kylo’s Senator grandmother or his Senator mother, apparently.

 

But Rey is different.  She looks down, a little frustrated at why he can’t see the nepotism angle that troubles her.  “I’m Kylo Ren’s wife.   That’s why I’m a Senator.  No one took me seriously before.   They sure won’t now that our relationship is known.”

 

“Who cares?” Kylo shrugs.  As always, he is pragmatic about using his power.

 

“I care,” Rey objects.  “I want my work to be meaningful.  To be respected.”

 

“But I need you in the Senate.  You’re the last surviving voice of the Resistance.  My Empire needs a conscience, Rey.”

 

She is unconvinced.  Rey muses aloud now, “You know that Dark Side Leader, Light Side Senator trope doesn’t work anymore. You’re not as Dark as you pretend to be.  Not any longer.  Maybe not all along.”  Rey looks down and adds a bit sheepishly, “And I’m not as Light as you think I am.”

 

He nods but still protests.  “You’ll always be a voice of compassion and mercy.  It’s who you are.  It’s why you were so terribly miserable when you were Dark.”

 

Rey looks down in shame.  “I died Dark,” she whispers like a confession. 

 

“I know.  But it was merited at the time.  That was a proper use of Dark power in defense of yourself and our son,” Kylo contends loyally.  “No one will fault you for it.”

 

“Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa would have faulted me,” Rey sighs.

 

“And that is why they are dead,” Kylo says bluntly.  “Because their view of the Force and of the galaxy was too rigid.  They were unwilling to ever compromise their ideals.  It was their undoing in the end.”

 

“But what do we stand for if we don’t have ideals?” Rey’s question isn’t rhetorical, it’s real.

 

“We stand for balance,” Kylo answers firmly.  “And that is a judgement call in the moment, based on all the facts and circumstances.  Maybe sometimes, we will go too Dark.   Maybe sometimes, we will go too Light.  But those errors will hopefully correct themselves in the larger scheme of things if we are mindful of our goal.”

 

Rey raises a skeptical eyebrow at these lofty words.  “So basically, you’re making it up as you go along?”

 

“Yes.”  Kylo shrugs and grins, “If it works . . . “ 

 

He gives her a serious look now.  “You know that my security concerns are real, right?   There are serious threats to your safety.  I’m not just being aggressive, overbearing, controlling and . . . what was the other one?  I forget.”

 

“Work obsessed,” Rey supplies the answer.

 

“Right.”  He shoots her a sideways glance.  “My wartime saving the galaxy job that you wish was nine-to-five.”

 

Rey ignores that last rather pointed comment.  “I see the danger,” she concedes.  “You made your point today at Army’s apartment.”  

 

“Too much independence could get you killed again,” Kylo piles on.  “The time isn’t right for all these steps you want to take.  Living on your own and going to school will expose you in ways that I cannot protect against.  I’m not saying no, I’m saying not yet.  There’s a difference.”

 

“I get it.”

 

“Do you?  Because I’m not the bad guy in all of this, Rey.  Let me be the good guy for once.  Let me take care of you—“

 

She automatically bristles.  “I can take care of myself.”

 

“I know you can.  That’s not the point.”  And now, Kylo keeps harping on the Senate.  “How about when the war is over, you become a part time university student and a part time Senator?”

 

“Can you do that?”

 

“I can make anything happen,” Kylo boasts.  “Well, most things.”  Then he congratulates himself.  “Look at me—compromising.”

 

He sounds so surprised that Rey is amused.   She leans in.  “I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

“Is that a yes?” he wrangles.

 

“Yes,” she agrees. 

 

“And in the meantime, will you study Force healing to help Hux and spend a few hours in my ultra-secure Senate each week harping on all the things you think I’m doing wrong?”

 

“Alright,” Rey agrees.  Then she echoes his words.  “Look at me—compromising.  Are you getting this?” 

 

“I am.  Look at how well we work together,” he marvels in mock amazement.  Then, Kylo lowers his chin and flashes that lopsided smirk that makes her heart skip a beat as he delivers his favorite Skywalker pickup line:  “You know, we should rule the galaxy together.”

 

“Do I hear another ‘Join me’ speech coming?” she groans.

 

“Oh, we’re way past that,” he laughs.  He flashes that lopsided smirk again and Rey has to remind herself that she needs to think with her head and not with her heart.  Because Kylo will only hurt her and disappoint her the second time around.  And if tonight is any indication, this friends thing could work out just fine.

 

He looks down at her leftover pizza.  “Done?”

 

“Done,” Rey confirms.

 

“Good.  Give me a lift to the Palace,” Kylo requests as he stands to throw away their trash.

 

A few minutes later, Rey pulls the speeder onto the Palace landing pad.   Everyone knows they are coming.  A crowd of troopers surrounds their vehicle in a protective perimeter as Rey slows to a halt.  The security protocols are on high alert tonight, she realizes.   These guys aren’t fooling around.

 

“Expecting trouble?” she asks warily.

 

“It’s standard procedure now,” Kylo brushes off her concern.  “I’ve been ambushed on the landing pad before.”

 

“I heard about that.”

 

He shrugs. “It was nothing compared to waking up to find the enemy’s star destroyer looming in my backyard.  That was bad.”

 

Rey nods, “You’re a dangerous guy.”

 

“If I get a credible threat to your safety at the apartment, you’re coming home,” Kylo warns sternly.  “Whether you like it or not, Rey.”

 

She frowns but as he beckons her close, she dutifully leans in to hear the rest. 

 

“There are two holochrons in the trunk.   Do your homework,” he tells her in a low voice, “for Hux’s sake.”

 

“Okay,” she agrees.

 

“Good.”  And, before she can pull back, Kylo plants a peck on her cheek in full view of everyone. 

 

“Hey!” Rey objects. 

 

Kylo flashes a rare grin as he hops out.  He looks boyishly mischievous.  “I couldn’t resist.  Besides, you would be disappointed if I didn’t try.”

 

Rey flushes, feeling flustered.  Because, galling though it is, Kylo is right.  “You need to stop with the kissing,” she fumes, once more recalling last night.  That hadn’t been a peck on the cheek.  That had been a torrid embrace.

 

“Sorry sweetheart, but I haven’t got time for anything else,” Kylo retorts.  As she fumes some more, he hollers over his shoulder “See you tomorrow at three,” as he heads inside.

 

 

 


	62. Chapter 62

For the next week, Kylo keeps his distance from Rey.   He sees her every day to heal Hux, but that’s it.  It’s a deliberate strategy.  He wants to give Rey the space she says she wants in order to respect her wishes.  He’s also hoping Rey will miss him.  That all her time in self-imposed seclusion will have her craving interaction. And, well, also Kylo is really, really busy. 

 

But with Rey gone from the Palace, things are back to being lonely.  And not just for him.  By the third day that Rey is gone, Army Hux looks downright lost.  Out of habit, Kylo wanders to the window that morning and looks down onto his Palace gardens.  Hux is loping around the perimeter on his daily walk with some woman in scrubs who isn’t Rey.  Poor glum Hux has lost his sidekick and rehab partner with Rey moving out.  Feeling a bit glum himself, in a rare moment of empathy Kylo decides to wander into the kitchen for breakfast.  And that’s how he ends up eating every morning with Hux.  Most mornings, it’s a working meal to discuss the upcoming day.  But Hux isn’t so bad.  He kind of grows on you over time.    Not a lot, but enough. 

 

That prompts Kylo to buy him a cat.  Mrs. Faris complains loudly about the smelly mess of keeping a pet, but his housekeeper dutifully follows orders and procures a kitten.  She presents Tarkin II at breakfast one morning.  It’s a tiny, mewing striped tabby cat wearing a ribbon with the First Order insignia as a collar. 

 

Hux is charmed.

 

The kitten is not.  She bites Hux.  Hard. 

 

Grand Moff Armitage Hux, who had the war criminal nerve to fire the Starkiller and an arrogant defiance in the face of his own execution, squeals like a little girl. 

 

Kylo snort laughs, chokes, and spits out his caf.  “Maybe you should name her after my mother,” he wheezes.  “She didn’t like you either.”

 

“Mon Mothma.   I’m naming her after Senator Mon Mothma,” Hux decides as he coaxes the kitten back for another attempt at a pet.  “She was pretty feisty too.”

 

The name doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.  Within a day, everyone is calling the kitten Moth-cat.  She has the run of the Palace, and can be seen darting around corners and skittering down crowded hallways underfoot.  She saunters into meetings with her little tail high and haughty.  She interrupts briefings when she jumps onto conference tables to bat her paws at holograms.  More than once, Kylo has to shoo her away when he finds her curled up in his chair at the head of the conference table. 

 

Moth-cat seems to follow Hux around the Palace.   Until one night when Kylo finds the snoozing kitten has crawled into bed with him in a questionable security breach.  She is settled on his pillow. Kylo opens one eye, she opens one eye, and it’s a determined stare down between them.  Kylo would never admit it, but he blinks first.  Moth-cat isn’t trailing Hux all day long, Kylo realizes.  She’s following him.  The fact that Hux is usually with him had obscured that fact.

 

“I am not a cat person,” Kylo informs the purring kitten with a wagging finger.  Contented Moth-cat just head butts against his hand with her eyes closed.   Then, she goes back to sleep.  Kylo can’t help but feel dissed at this blatant disrespect.   This is why he doesn’t like cats.  Cats don’t understand the chain of command.

 

Rejected Hux complains to Rey the next day that Kylo has stolen his cat.  Rey can’t stop laughing at them both.  Soon, they are all laughing.   It’s a silly moment.  When they are done Force healing, Kylo lingers a bit, angling to talk to Rey.  The cat lingers too, which Rey finds hilarious.  For his part, Hux is miffed. He stalks off in a huff after announcing that Moth-cat is a terrible judge of character.   Rey giggles some more over that.

 

She’s in a good mood, he’s in a good mood. It prompts Kylo to make a low-key impromptu pitch.  “Why don’t you come home?”  He tries to say this as casually as possible so it doesn’t sound like begging, which it basically is.

 

Rey sidesteps the question. “I’m going to the Senate military briefing this afternoon.”

 

“Good,” Kylo approves of this news.  Then he tries again.  “If you have any questions about the briefing, I could answer them over dinner.”  Does he sound hopeful or merely desperate?  Kylo can’t be sure.

 

Rey puts him off.  “I think it’s supposed to be pretty comprehensive.  But I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“What else is new?” Kylo wants to keep the conversation going.  Plus, in the nine days since she moved out, he’s been obsessing over what Rey has been up to.

 

“I met with the dean of admissions at Coruscant University yesterday.”

 

Kylo’s eyes narrow at this development.  “Who set that up?  Hux?”

 

“I did.”

 

Oh.  “You’re really serious about this school thing.”

 

“Yes.  I cold called her as a Senator and set up a meeting.  It turns out that the dean is originally from Tatooine.”

 

Kylo raises his eyebrows.  Not many elite academics come from the Outer Rim. “She’s come a long way,” he observes.

 

“Yes, she has.   She understood, Kylo.  I told her my background and she understood.  She also didn’t assume that I am an idiot because I don’t have the typical student profile.  You know how snobbish the Core can be.”

 

Yes, he does.  As far as most of Coruscant is concerned, the Outer Rim is full of backward cretins who cling to their guns and religion and antipathy towards the New Republic as a way to explain their personal inadequacies.  The Core elites think it no surprise that the First Order found its original foothold among the Rim systems.  Because naturally those uneducated, gullible, reactionary types would embrace Snoke’s fascist Neo-Imperialist message.  And that’s what got the galaxy into this First Order versus First Order civil war.  Rey, with her hard scrabble upbringing, is far more typical of the impoverished Rim population than Kylo would like.  Very few citizens with her background ever venture into the Core.  They would never be welcomed into its established business, social, and educational institutions. 

 

What Rey is trying to do is somewhat unprecedented.  But then again, it’s Rey.  So, all bets are off. 

 

“What did she say about admission?”

 

“She didn’t say no,” Rey answers, sounding naive.  Because, of course, the dean wouldn’t say no to a Senator so highly connected to the regime.  “She gave me a reading list to start on.  She also said that the university has some lecture classes broadcast over the holonet.  I’m going to participate in those remotely.  It will give me a taste of college and it will be good prep work.  There will be no security risk either.”

 

“Okay.” 

 

“This will make me a better Senator,” Rey argues earnestly.  She’s clearly anticipating pushback. “I looked over the catalog and it’s a lot of public policy, politics, and history classes.   That will give me a good context for what we do in the Senate.  Some of the classes may even count as credit towards my degree.”

 

She sounds so excited that Kylo can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.   But he’s a little flummoxed as well. “You know, I pegged you for a techie.”  Sociology and Poli Sci were never on his list of potential majors for coed Rey.

 

She’s a little offended by the remark.  “I want to be more than a scavenger,” she reminds him.  Rey has an edge to her voice.  “This isn’t tech.  I know tech.  I want to be more than tech.  The curriculum we discussed is pre-Law.”

 

Kylo gulps.  “You’re going to be a lawyer??”  Yikes.  What has he agreed to?  His Empire doesn’t need another pesky lawyer, that’s for sure. 

 

“Of course, it’s Pre-Law.”  Rey looks genuinely confused by his reaction.  “Isn’t that what Senators do?   They make laws.”

 

Kylo can’t argue with that statement.  “That all sounds good,” he blesses her endeavor, “but no formal classes until the war ends.  That was our deal.”

 

“I know.   This is just a low risk way to get started before then.”

 

“Fine.  Does this dean know who you are?  Who you really are?”

 

Rey sighs.  “Everyone who reads or watches the holonet knows who I am.   That tape from Jerard you released basically confirms that we were married.”

 

“Are married,” he corrects. 

 

“Were married,” she repeats pointedly.  Then, she moves on.  “I agreed to hire some Coruscant U students as interns in my Senate office.   They could probably teach me a thing or two, but they will be getting class credit for working a few hours a week for me on policy research.”

 

Kylo likes that idea.  “A win-win.” 

 

“Yes, I hope.”

 

And very likely a quid pro quo with the admissions dean as well, Kylo thinks.  Rey didn’t bargain for a living on Jakku for nothing.  In the long run, she’ll be a natural at political horse trading and influence peddling, he suspects.  That’s good.  Because ultimately, Kylo plans for his Senate to be a deliberative, substantive body and not merely a rubber stamp for the regime’s policies.

 

“I’m glad you’ll be back in the Senate.”  Kylo means this sincerely.  For ever since he made Rey that offer in Snoke’s throne room, he has been trying to recruit her to his team.  For once, she actually seems enthusiastic about her role, even if she wants to limit it to pursue her other goals.  But he can work with that.

 

Rey smiles wryly at his words.  “I’ll remind you of that the next time I am publicly in opposition to the regime.”  She stoops to pick up Moth-cat who has been angling for attention, rubbing back and forth against Rey’s leg.  “Hello Senator,” Rey tells the kitty named for Palpatine’s legislative foe before she cuddles her to her chest.  “I’m a Senator too,” Rey coos as she strokes the new pet.

 

Seeing Rey this easy and relaxed with Hux gone emboldens Kylo.  Impulsively, he reups his offer again.  “Why don’t you come home?  You can do all these things easier and safer from here at the Palace.  You’ve made your point about independence,” Kylo cajoles.

 

Rey looks down and away.  “It’s not just that and you know it.”

 

“No, I don't.  What is it?”  He doesn’t really understand her stubborn resistance.

 

Rey tries to explain.  “You and I need some distance.  Too much time together . . .  too much proximity and we’ll . . . I’ll . . . ”

 

What is this?  A guessing game?  Kylo steps forward in an ostensible pose to pet Moth-cat.   But really, it’s just an excuse to get in Rey’s personal space. “You’ll what?” he asks softly.

 

Rey won’t meet his eyes.  “I think I need to go,” she mutters.  Rey turns around and drops the kitten back on the ground. 

 

“Don’t run away.  Please.”

 

She stiffens and tucks a stray hair behind her ear.  “I’m not running away.”

 

“Yes, you are,” he persists.  “And you don’t need to.” 

 

“See you tomorrow.”  Rey heads for the door, leaving him with that damned cat he can only blame himself for.

 

The cat is a nuisance.  It follows him like a shadow everywhere.  Even into his training room on the random nights when Kylo can spare an hour to sweat off some stress.  Tonight, he’s facing three custom-made, fully shielded battle droids with his sword.   Kylo has to concentrate hard, but he enjoys the challenge.  There are blaster bolts flying every direction—and they are not set to stun—when the little kitty decides to come off the sidelines.  Moth-cat saunters up oblivious to the danger.  She sits down right in front on him and starts to meow.  And, what the Hell?  That cat is going to go the way of her predecessor and end up as a scorch mark on the ground.  And then, Hux will hate him more than ever, Kylo knows. 

 

“Go away!”  Kylo gently tosses the offending animal aside with the help of the Force. 

 

But the kitty with a death wish marches forward again.  Two more times, Kylo repeats his feline Force push.  Apparently, the animal thinks it’s some sort of game?

 

“Watch out!”  Kylo saves the cat again from certain death.  But the split-second distraction gets him hit.  A blaster shot he deflected with his sword bounces off a wall and comes back at him.  And that’s how Kylo earns himself a graze wound across the torso for his heroism saving Mon Mothma Hux. 

 

“Fuck!”  That hurts.  Irritated Kylo concentrates hard and all three battle droids simply implode with the help of the Force.  That’s enough saber practice for tonight, he decides.

 

He extinguishes his weapon and inspects the wound.  It’s not serious, despite the charred skin and oozing blood.  It looks way worse than it is.  If he cleans it and wears an extra-strength bacta patch overnight and in the morning, by this time tomorrow it will be only a pale pink soft scab.   Kylo is halfway to the makeshift infirmary down the hall to retrieve some patches when he reconsiders. 

 

This wound is the perfect excuse to visit Rey. 

 

He reverses course and heads out to the landing pad to commandeer a speeder.  If any of the guards on duty wonder about the Supreme Leader out of uniform in a black t-shirt and workout pants, dripping wet with sweat, and smelling of blood and ozone from blasterfire, no one fesses up.  Five minutes later, he’s at the Skywalker apartment.  Kylo pulls up and looks around.  Where is everybody? 

 

Alarmed, Kylo wanders over to the seating area of the expansive terrace.  There he finds Rey with four unmasked, unarmed praetorians watching a projected screen of a holonet sports channel.  Oh, yeah.  He forgot.  Tonight is the championship pod racing finals.  No wonder the crew on the Palace landing pad hadn’t been overly solicitous.  They were all anxious to get back to watching this.  And, as far as Kylo is concerned, all this pre-game is a waste of time.  There’s an hour of overhyped leadup and only five minutes of the actual race.

 

“Hey Kylo,” Rey calls over without looking.  She has sensed him in the Force. 

 

The praetorians, of course, did not.  They look spooked as they leap up to attention.  They are clearly cognizant that they have been caught goofing off.  Kylo looks them over with undisguised anger.  “Which ones of you are supposed to be on duty?” he growls at his men.  “And who’s in charge?”

 

“Leader, Sir . . . the Senator . . . she—“

 

“Ordered you to watch pod racing?” Kylo drawls icily.  He’s debating whether to make an example out of these guys. 

 

“Yes,” Rey responds over her shoulder, “As a matter of fact, I did.  Now shhhh!  The race has started. This is the championships and they’re on the third lap.”

 

“The Chagrian wins.”

 

“No spoilers!” Rey stands and scowls at him.  “Wait—did the Force tell you that?”

 

“No, the holonet did.  That broadcast is on a four-hour delay.  The Devaronian is in the lead until he crashes right at the finish,” Kylo volunteers.

 

“I said no spoilers!” Rey complains again.  Kylo has walked closer into the light now.  Rey sees the blood on his right hand from where he poked at his wound.  It gets her attention.  “You’re hurt.”  The pod race is forgotten.  Rey pushes past the praetorians to intercept him.

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Let me see.”  Rey grabs for his hand.  “Where is this blood from?  Oh, no!  You’ve been shot!   That’s a flashburn!”

 

“Yes.”

 

She leans close and starts poking at it.  “Ouch!” Kylo recoils.  “Don’t make it worse.”

 

“Hold still.”  Rey takes charge.

 

Kylo smirks as he grimaces.  “I’ve missed your gentle touch, wifey.”

 

Rey must be really rattled because she lets that comment slide.  “It’s not too bad,” she assesses.  “What happened?”

 

“In a minute.  Hold on.”  He sidesteps Rey and gingerly takes a seat on the terrace facing the screen.  He might as well watch the race now that it’s on.  “I want to see the end.  I just read the results. I didn’t watch it.”

 

“But you’re bleeding!”

 

Kylo shrugs.  “I’ll live.  Chewie hurt me way more than this.  And then you came along and kicked my ass—“

 

“Is there a threat?   Who shot you, Sir?”  The lead praetorian has recovered sufficiently to begin to assert himself.

 

Kylo ignores him.  “Watch this last turn coming up,” he tells Rey.  “This is when it happens.  I saw the crash meme on the holonet.”

 

“Answer his question!” she balks.

 

The lead praetorian speaks up again. “With respect, where are the hostiles, Sir?”

 

“There are no hostiles.  Well, unless she counts as hostile.”  Kylo jabs a thumb at Rey. “Are you hostile tonight?” he asks.  He can never tell where he stands with this woman.  Rey always keeps him guessing.

 

“No hostiles?” Rey repeats.   She’s confused.  “Then how . . .   Oh, no.  You did this,” Rey surmises, looking horrified. “Oh, Kylo, no!” she implores him.  “This is not the solution to our problems—"

 

“Move, I can’t see—“

 

“Shooting yourself is not the answer!”  Rey is as dramatic and impassioned as she ever was in her Senate heyday.  She’s acting like he’s suicidal, and that’s doing nothing to rebut his unstable reputation. She wails out now, “Don’t throw your life away!” 

 

“I’m not.  Now move, woman—“

 

Rey looks worried.  And guilty.  “Is this because I want another divorce?”

 

“Wait—what?”  He glares at her.  Tearing his eyes from the race.

 

“I want a divorce,” she repeats.  “A real one this time.”

 

She tells him this now?   In front of four praetorians?  Pissed, Kylo decrees, “No.   Trial separation, yes.  Divorce, no.”  He wags a warning finger at her and glares.  “‘Til death do us part, Mrs. Solo.”

 

“Then why did you shoot yourself?” Rey demands hotly. 

 

“It wasn’t over you, babe.  Now move.  How can a woman so skinny obscure so much?” he complains. 

 

She takes offense.  “Who are you calling skinny?”

 

Kylo smirks.  “Let’s just say that I didn’t marry you for your juicy ass.”  He’s focused back on the race now.  This is the good part.   “Here it comes and  . . . wait for it  . . . wait for it  . . . now!”

 

“Ugh!” All four praetorians and Rey react in unison as the lead racer loses control seconds before he wins.  His ship dips too low and makes contact with the surface.  The move dislodges a critical stabilizer.  The damage throws the unbalanced craft end over end and the racer becomes a spinning fireball that careens into the nearest crash barrier.   It’s a lurid, shocking end that leaves the crowd hushed instead of cheering the winner.

 

“That guy’s a goner,” a cringing guard closest to Kylo observes.

 

“Actually, he lives,” Kylo supplies the happy ending.  “The pilot walks away without a scratch.”

 

“You don’t say . . . “ 

 

Everyone stares anew at the looping crash footage, marveling that anyone could survive it.   

 

“Look!  There!  He ejects just in time,” Kylo points out as the slow-motion replay repeats.  He stands now and turns to Rey.  “Okay, show’s over.  Time to heal me.  Use the Force, babe.”

 

She purses her lips and puts her hands on her hips.  It’s very Leia Organa of her.  “Not until you fess up to who shot you.   Did Army do this?  If he did, I’m going to kill him myself.  Imagine two grown men fighting over the affections of a cat--“

 

“Hux?  You think Hux shot me?  Over a cat??” Kylo scoffs at the very idea. “Oh, come on—“

 

“No,” she decides. “Army would have shot you in the head not in the gut.  I’ve seen that guy shoot.  He’s lethal.”

 

This is how rumors get started.  With a glance around at their listening onlookers, Kylo quashes them firmly.  “Hux did not attempt a coup.  We’re friends now . . . sort of.   But don’t tell him that.  Never tell him that.  Officially, we hate each other like always.”

 

Rey frowns.  “Okay, then what happened?  Spill it.  And don’t give me any ‘I was cleaning my blaster and it went off’ bullshit because I will know it’s a lie.”

 

Sheepish Kylo comes clean.  But he omits the part about the cat.  It’s just too humiliating.  “I was practicing and I ricocheted a blaster bolt off a wall back at me.  It was a training mishap.  Friendly fire from my own sword.”  He tries to make light of the incident.

 

“Ouch.”  Rey isn’t fooled.

 

“I would have slapped on a bacta patch and called it a night, but you were close by so I thought I would get some newbie Force healing.  Time for a pop quiz on that holochron homework, Rey.”

 

“Wait, so you did actually shoot yourself?” she wants to clarify.

 

“Not exactly,” he stiffens at her unfortunate phrasing.  “The battle droid took a shot that I successfully deflected but that came back at—“

 

“You train with live blasters now?” Rey interrupts. 

 

“Of course.  What’s the fun in stun bolts?”

 

She shakes her head.  “Only you would do that.”

 

Why are they arguing about this?  “So, what’s a guy got to do to get some TLC around here?  Do I have to actually die?”

 

Rey doesn’t appreciate his attitude.  She challenges, “Can’t you heal yourself?”

 

“Not really. I’m not so good at that,” he admits.   He’s sheepish yet again.  “So . . . help a guy out?”

 

“Okay,” Rey relents.  She motions for him to follow.  “Come inside.”

 

Kylo nods.  But before he enters, Kylo commands to their praetorian audience, “You four, do your job.  Get on guard.  The race is over.  The war is not.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” the men salute in unison. 

 

Inside Rey seats him at the kitchen table while she rummages around for warm water and a towel to clean his wound.  She appears a minute later and tells him, “Take off your shirt.”

 

Kylo can’t help himself.  He leers, “I thought you’d never ask.”  Then he stands to peel off his t-shirt.  And yeah, he saw that look.  Rey is looking but not looking.  Just like she did that time she surprised him shirtless over the Force bond.  Kylo smothers a smile and tosses his sweat stained shirt on the table.  He’s feeling quite the stud now at her reaction.  Her words might be frosty but she’s far from indifferent like she pretends.

 

Kylo gives her his best smoldering look and uses his deepest voice.  “Okay, you next.”

 

Rey shoots him down with an ‘oh please’ look.  “In your dreams.”

 

“Yes,” he murmurs as she leans close to dab at the wound.  “You are in my dreams,” he confides the truth.

 

Rey is focused on his injury, not his heavy-handed, awkward flirting.  “This isn’t deep, but it looks awful.”

 

“It’s just a graze. But it hurts.  I hope you did your homework.”

 

“I did,” Rey nods.  She looks him in the eye.  “I can do this.”

 

Kylo meets her gaze and nods back.  “I know you can.”  And weirdly, that Force talk is way more flirty than his talk about taking her shirt off.  Rey looks flustered suddenly.  She’s skittish and a little uncomfortable, but determined too.  It’s adorable.   And quintessentially her.  She had that same look when she pulled the sword from the snow and lit it on Starkiller Base.  Rey didn’t know it then, but she won the duel that very moment when she slayed his heart.  Kylo was never, ever going to kill her after that.

 

“Okay, so . . .”  She pulls up a chair opposite him and leans forward to put her hands on his chest above his wound.  And, oh Gods, that feels good.  He closes his eyes to hide his pleasure at the feel of the skin on skin.  Put your hands on me, Kylo thinks.  Put your hands all over me . . .   


Rey summons the Force and his mind basks in its reflected glory.  This is the essence of the universe, the stuff of creation, the magic of life flowing between them.  Strength flows from Chosen One to Chosen One as Rey literally wills his body to knit itself back together again.  He did this for hours a day for weeks on end to heal Rey after she was revived.  But she had been unconscious then and he had been doing the work.  This is different.  This is amazing.  Kylo can think of only one physical sensation that compares to this.  And that thought makes him groan aloud.

 

He feels her concentration waver.  “Am I hurting you?” she whispers worriedly.  “I don’t want to hurt you—”

 

“It’s fine,” he rasps.  “Keep going.”  Please, please never stop.

 

“I’m almost done.  I think.”

 

“Take your time,” he yelps fast.  “Do it right.”  Please, please never stop.

 

Damn, this girl is seducing his mind with her Force.  She’s concentrating so hard that she’s completely oblivious.  But the lure is strong.  Very strong.

 

The next thing he knows, she sits back.  “Better?”

 

And wait, is she done?  Is she done already?  Kylo opens his eyes and blinks at her concerned face. 

 

“How do you feel?”

 

Lusty.  But that’s not an acceptable answer, so Kylo busies himself checking out his wound. 

 

It’s completely gone.  There’s just a slight tenderness to the touch from the overstimulated nerves beneath the skin and a lingering redness on the surface.  But the feel is smooth to the touch.  “You’re good.  You’re really good.”  He’s impressed and he wants her to know it.  Kylo looks up.  “Well done.”

 

Rey colors a little at the praise.  “Thanks.”  Then she stands and heads for the sink to wash her hands.  “Army said you healed me hours a day for weeks.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

She turns around, wiping her hands.  “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

 

“There’s no need to thank me.  It was the least I could do given the circumstances.”  He looks away now, uncomfortable with his guilt. “If I had let you come home when you asked, you never would have died.”  And Carl would not be lost.  Kylo leaves that last part unsaid.   Since the trip to Naboo, their son has become an unspoken topic between them.  Often on the mind, but never on the lips.  

 

“Well, thanks,” Rey tells him.  She gestures to his side.  “This isn’t much in the way of payback, but it’s something, I guess.”

 

Kylo is still marveling at her handiwork.  As always, Rey is a quick study.  She doesn’t even look lightheaded like he used to get at the beginning when he healed.  It prompts him to offer, “How do you feel about taking over Hux healing duty a few times a week?”

 

“Do you think I’m ready for that?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Okay.  Then, yes.”

 

They exchange genuine smiles now.  “The Force is with you tonight,” Kylo commends and Rey looks proud.  It makes him happy.  

 

“Got any water?”  Kylo is thirsty from his workout.

 

She arches an eyebrow at him.  “Are you going to drink my water stash like you used to?” She says her words sternly but a smile is tugging at her lips.  It’s classic Rey.   The delivery is direct and gruff but the intent is not.  If you don’t know this girl well, you might mistake her for a bitch.  But she’s not.  She’s just Jakku.  

 

“Here.”  She reaches into the fridge to hand him a cold water bottle. Then she opens one for herself.  They bump the bottles together like they are clinking wine glasses for a toast.  Then, she takes a swig as he proceeds to swallow his entire bottle. 

 

“You are going to drink my whole stash, aren’t you?” she observes as he plunks the empty bottle on the table.   

 

“I’ll bring you some more,” he promises lightly. 

 

“Are you looking for an excuse to come over?” she asks archly.

 

“How’d you guess?”  She’s looming over him seated in the chair.  But Kylo can fix that.  “Come here, you.”  He snakes his hands out fast to draw her down into his lap.

 

“What—Ky—”

 

She never gets to object.  He silences her with a kiss. 

 

Rey doesn’t fight him. Not at all.  In fact, she wraps her arms around his neck. But then, she pulls back and disentangles herself. “You’re really testing this friends thing,” she murmurs red faced as she stands.  

 

He stands too. He’s not letting her get away.  “I’m taking it to the next level.  Friends with benefits.”

 

She bats his reaching hands away.  “Healing benefits only.”

 

“We’re still married,” he breathes into her ear as he wraps arms around her from behind. “Be my wife again,” he coaxes. He’s crazy for this woman and always will be.  What a fool he was to reject her.  Now, he will fight to keep her in his life. 

 

She turns to face him.  “Kylo, we need to move on.”

 

“No.”   He dives for another kiss.  And like every other time he manages to get lips on this girl, she thaws a little more.  The moral of the story, he decides, is to keep up the kissing.  

 

The new strategy works. She’s got her hands in his hair now and she’s pressed up against him.  It’s all the encouragement Kylo needs.  He hustles Rey back against the kitchen counter to lean into her.  His hands slip up the back of her shirt and roam towards the front. Is she going to stop him?  No.  Instead, she moans.  Any minute now, Kylo is going to lay Rey down on the kitchen table to go at it.   That’s how ready for this he is.  It’s been two years since he had sex. His body is screaming for it now. He’s hard as a rock. And for her part, Rey seems plenty enthusiastic.  This time, she’s not pulling back.  So much for playing hard to get.

 

“No.  Not like this.  Not here.”  Much as he would love to fuck Rey on the kitchen floor, it’s never how he envisioned their reunion would play out.  Kylo wants to lay her down on soft sheets and take his time. For this to be a romantic reunion that becomes a new beginning for their relationship.  So he steps back and grabs her hand tightly. “Remind me where the bedroom is?”

 

“Which one?” she pants. 

 

“Any one.”

 

“Down the hall. Take your pick.”

 

“Come on.”’  He needs to get her naked before she changes her mind and throws him out.  Kylo darts into the first open doorway.  He’s yanking her shirt over her head when a thought occurs to him. 

 

“Wait—is this safe?”

 

Rey looks up as she fiddles with the clasp on her bra. “You mean am I going to wake up with yellow eyes from going to bed with you?”

 

“That wasn’t my fault,” he protests.  “No, I mean is it medically safe?  Did the doctors say this is okay?”  Kylo had always tuned out the explanations by the medics using the word postpartum.  

 

Rey is unconcerned. “I didn’t ask.  But you can’t get me pregnant.”

 

“Is that a challenge? If so, I accept.”  Her bra is off now and his eyes wander downward. Is it his imagination, or did her breasts get bigger?   The rest of her is as tiny as ever.  It must be from the baby.  And why are they wasting time? They could be getting down to business.  Time for more action and less talking.  

 

She’s in his arms now naked beneath him on the bed as they exchange urgent open-mouthed kisses.  He is ready to do this, but she persists in talking.  And it’s not heat of passion endearments or love promises.   It’s conditions.  

 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she exhales into his ear as he grinds his hips into hers.  

 

“Liar.”

 

“It’s just sex,” Rey maintains before she throws her head back in wild abandon.

 

“You tell yourself that,” he mutters into those new and improved breasts he is lavishing attention on.  

 

“I am.  I have to,” she pants before she declares, “You’re leaving after this.”

 

“Only if you come with me.”

 

“I mean it.”   She intercepts his face with both hands, ordering, “You’re not sleeping over,” before she pulls him down for an epic hot siren’s kiss.  

 

It goes on and on before he pulls back to catch his breath. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

 

Enough preamble.   Any more foreplay negotiations and this will become a full-fledged argument.   Time to make this a fait accompli.  To give them what they want.  Kylo positions himself and thrusts in.  And, oh Gods, he almost loses himself right then and there.   Because it has been so long . . .

 

So much for his intentions for a languid, drawn out romantic interlude.  Things become a race to the finish immediately.  This need is too pent up, this lust too primal, this simmering emotion too raw for that sort of self-control.  Kylo abandons all desire to make love and settles for a good hard fuck.  If she wants this to be a purely physical thing, then so be it.  That’s fine.  He needs this.   She needs this.   And together, they need this as a couple.  

 

But despite that objective, meaning starts spilling from his lips.  “I love you,” he confesses, looking down at her face as he moves.  “I still love you.”  Their star-crossed romance is much more than sex, much more than the Force.  Kylo is far too invested in this woman for the emotional detachment she pretends to want.  That’s just more of her Jakku talking.   

 

Rey isn't surprised by his sentiment.  “Love isn’t enough,” she sighs as she arches her back and lifts her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. 

 

“It can be if you let it,” Kylo retorts as he keeps pounding away towards oblivion.  He’s so close now.  Is she close?   Because he can’t hold out much longer. 

 

Rey turns her head away, her eyes closed with the intensity of the moment.  “For the record, this is hate sex,” she whispers.  

 

Bullshit. “This is makeup sex.  I know you love me.”

 

Her head whips back.  She looks alarmed.    “I . . .  I . . . ” she stammers.  

 

“It’s alright,” he hushes her.  “I know.”

 

“This is just this once.”

 

“And tomorrow night and the night after that,” he gasps out.  Time for the big finish.  He snatches a pillow from beside her.  “Lift,” he commands as he slips it under her hips and lifts her knees up.  And yeah, this new angle is perfect.  From the look on Rey’s face and her fast-rising color, she agrees.  

 

But still, she is setting boundaries. “This is just tonight.”

 

“This is forever.”   And damn, this is so good. She is snug and tight around him now.  Her body tensing and ready to go.   

 

She knows it, too.  “Stop talking.  You’re ruining it.”

 

He obliges.  From there on out, he concentrates on pleasure.   On the sensation of this intimacy long denied.  On the feel of her body quaking around him as she surrenders to the joy of sex.  He stops holding back and commits himself to the moment with a long gutter groan of satisfaction at the end.   

 

When it is over, he rolls off Rey.   They are both breathing heavy from the exertion as they lay side by side in silence.   

 

Kylo talks first.  “I’ve missed you.”

 

Rey, naturally, eschews the declaration.  “You missed sex.  Unless . . . ”  She half sits up to peer down at him.  “Did you cheat on me?” she asks.

 

“No!”

 

“Are you sure?  Because you hesitated a moment there.”

 

Kylo admits, “I thought about it.”  He made a few draft dating profiles he never posted.   But that’s all. 

 

She fully sits up now.  Her eyes sharp with accusation. “You thought about it??”   She’s indignant. Because, of course, Rey is far less distant than she likes to pretend.  Tonight has revealed that she hasn’t moved on anywhere near as much as she contends.  “You thought about it??”

 

“Well, yeah.  But I didn’t do it,” he reassures her.  

 

Rey is threatened now.  She reverts to her usual frosty self.  It’s a defense mechanism that tells Kylo just how badly he hurt her with his rejection and the divorce.  She has her hard shell back up and her words are clipped.  “Okay.  Get dressed.  Time to leave.”

 

“You’re panicking,” he observes.  

 

“Yes.  Get out.”  Rey looks like she’s on the verge of either tears or Force lightning, so Kylo decides on a strategic retreat.  This is progress enough for one day.  

 

He rummages around to yank on his pants and boots. Then, he locates his torn shirt on the kitchen counter.  Rey follows him in, wrapped in a sheet.  “I’m coming back tomorrow night,” he tells her as he fixes his sword back at his waist.  

 

“Like Hell you are,” Rey growls.  So much for afterglow.  She looks ready to bite him like that kitten bit Hux.

 

But he knows her well enough to recognize she’s pushing him away before she can get hurt again.  “Rey,” Kylo holds her gaze steadily, trying to tell her that it’s okay.  Tonight is okay. “We are inevitable.”  She needs to stop fighting it.

 

She runs a hand through her messy hair and surprises him by agreeing.  “Yeah, you might be right. Because this is what I feared would happen.  You and I—we spend too much time together and we do—we do . . . this.”

 

Kylo chuckles and grins.  “It’s great, isn’t it?  Kiss me goodbye?” he angles.

 

“I’d just as soon kiss a wookiee!”

 

That wasn’t her feeling a few minutes ago.  But whatever.  “Suit yourself,” he shrugs it off.  Rey has always blown hot and cold.  This is nothing new.  Get too close or get her too vulnerable and she reflexively pushes you back.  

 

Kylo heads for the terrace where his speeder is parked.   Rey follows him in her sheet, giving the praetorians no doubt about what the Supreme Leader and his lady have been up to.  “You have a standing invitation to come back home,” he tells her.  “There’s all-you-can-drink water bottles plus a cat,” he adds as an inducement.  

 

“No, thanks.”

 

“And breakfast every morning with my Grand Moff.“

 

She’s stubborn as always.  “Get out!” 

 

“I’m going.  I love you too,” Kylo calls back happily as he strides for his speeder. 

 

 


	63. Chapter 63

The next day is Rey’s first solo healing session for Army.  They are alone in the infirmary together.   Rey is glad for that.  She is anticipating awkwardness with Kylo given what happened last night.   She’s not ready to see him yet.  Rey is still trying to make sense of her actions for herself. 

 

"You slept with him.”  Army surprises her by being fully in the loop. 

 

Did Kylo kiss and tell?  Rey is caught off guard at this bluntness.  "How did you—I mean, no!"

 

“Liar.”  The Grand Moff is not fooled. "Rey, you are a terrible liar," her friend assesses, shaking his head.

 

"So it shows?" she cringes.

 

“It shows on him, not on you.” Army begins to unbutton his uniform coat.  "Ren was happy as can be at breakfast this morning.   Relaxed too.   He smiled.  And not just once, but repeatedly.  It creeped me out." Army shudders.  "I figured it could only be about you because there’s no good news on the war.”

 

Embarrassed, sheepish Rey comes clean, sort of.  "He came over last night to watch the race."

 

Army smirks and gives her a knowing look.  "That's not all he did apparently.  You know, I lost fifty credits on that race.  My guy crashed and burned at the finish."

 

"You aren't the only one to lose a wager.  I read that at Canto Bight--"

 

"Don't change the subject.” Army gives her a pointed look.  “Our topic is you DTF with Ren.”

 

“Army!”

 

“Well?  When did that change of heart occur?" he prods.

 

Why are they discussing this?   Rey clams up. "None of your business!"

 

"Of course, it's my business.  You're my friend, Ren's my friend—“

 

"Since when?"

 

"Since lately.  Ren and I are friends now . . . sort of . . . maybe,” Army hedges. “But don't tell him that.  Never tell him that.  Officially, we hate each other like always."

 

Rey raises an eyebrow at this claim.   "I still fail to see how this is your business."

 

"Well, besides our longstanding friendship,” Army argues, “there is also my patriotic duty to the Empire."

 

Rey crosses her arms and cocks her head.  "How so?"

 

"The Supreme Leader in wartime needs to be focused on his job.  Not on your relationship drama.  You two need to figure things out,” Army complains.  “This has gone on long enough.  Work it out, Rey.”

 

She stiffens. "He's the drama queen, not me."

 

"Wrong.  You're both drama queens.  Seriously, conflict follows you two everywhere.  It's obvious that you are perfect for one another.   I mean, I could never handle a girl as high maintenance as you are," Army sniffs.

 

That observation doesn’t sit well.  "High maintenance?   I'm high maintenance??"  This from the acerbic,

preening Armitage Hux?  Rey bristles some more.

 

"Oh, you are very high maintenance and you think you are low maintenance.  That's an unfortunate combination.” 

 

Rey’s response is frosty.  "You are very free with your opinions this afternoon."

 

Army smirks as he wiggles out of his undershirt. "I myself like a low key, supportive type girl.  The kind of girl who I don't have to compete with.  The kind of girl who lets me take the lead.”

 

"Sounds boring," Rey observes acidly.  “Climb up and lay down,” she orders, deliberately taking the lead herself now.

 

"Not boring.  Easy,” Army counters.   “I like a nice, good girl.   Someone with unimpeachable loyalty to the Order.  A girl who understands the responsibilities of my position.”

 

Rey shoots him a look.  "Tell you what, after the war is over, we'll find you this paragon of virtue.   Some doormat of a girl you can walk all over and she'll still adore you and the responsibilities of your position or whatever."

 

“That’s the plan, I guess.”  Army looks away and mutters under his breath, "You and I would never have worked.  Never."

 

"Am I too strong willed for you?" she goads.

 

"You'd be rolling your eyes during my speeches.  I couldn't have that."

 

"I would absolutely roll my eyes," Rey agrees.

 

"And Ren would murder me.   He's definitely the jealous type. Think of the discord in the ranks that would cause.  The disorder—"

 

"He would absolutely murder you," Rey agrees again.

 

"And your father wouldn't revive me afterwards.  I'd stay dead this time."

 

"Are you sure?” Rey questions this claim. “My father is indebted to you."

 

“I’m sure,” Army confirms. "Snoke told me in no uncertain terms before he left that you belonged to Ren.  So, there you have it,” he concludes glumly. “We would never have worked."

 

“You’re upset.”  Rey doesn’t know what to make of that fact.  She’s only ever thought of Army as a friend.  “You’re upset that Kylo and I—”

 

“No!” he stops her.  “I’m happy for you.  I am.   I just . . . I just got to thinking that . . . well, maybe I’m tired of being alone . . . maybe it’s time for me to move on . . . but I don’t know how to meet a woman now . . .”

 

Rey has been lonely enough to recognize loneliness in another person.   Her face softens and she drops her attitude.  “How long have you been divorced?” she asks quietly.

 

Army shoots her a warning look.  “Don’t go there.”

 

"I won’t.”  Rey instantly backs down.  “But when the war is over, we'll find you a girl.  Someone who will make you happy."

 

He makes a face and looks away.  "Look at me.”’ He gestures with disgust to his scarred body as he climbs onto the gurney for her to heal. “I'm a mess.  What girl wants to reboot her boyfriend once a day?"

 

"Plenty of girls.  You'll see."

 

“I'm not the marrying type, mind you.  I did that once.  I'm never doing that again."

 

"So we'll find you a girl who doesn't need a commitment.” 

 

"Yes.  Alright.”  Red faced Army refuses to meet her eyes.   “That could be good.  I guess."

 

"Someone age appropriate--"

 

He looks up sharply.  "Who are you calling old?"

 

Army’s reaction makes her laugh.  It lightens the mood considerably.  "Aren't you forty-two now?" Rey teases.

 

"Who told you that?  It's a state secret."

 

“All I mean is that you need a girl who is a match for your gravitas and experience."

 

His ego is placated by her words.  Army again relents. "That might be okay . . . "

 

“Good.”

 

He moves on now.  “Enough about me.  Does last night mean you and Ren are getting back together?"

 

"No!   Well, I don’t know . . . "

 

"That's a yes."

 

"That's an 'I don't know,’” Rey snaps back testily.  Suddenly, she’s the one on the defensive feeling uncomfortable and uncertain.  For truly, Rey isn’t sure how to feel about last night.  She and Kylo are great in bed.   That’s not their problem.   Their problem is everything outside of bed.  Well, except the Force.  In a great irony that would shock and dismay Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, Rey and Kylo have come to agreement about the Force and the war.   Their conflicts are more personal than political these days.   And maybe, that’s a statement on how far things have progressed between them. 

 

Army is watching her closely.  "Do us all a favor and reconcile.  For the good of the Empire, take one for the team, Rey.  I can't take more smiley Kylo Ren first thing in the morning.  It's weird and so wrong,” he gripes peevishly.

 

“I don’t know,” Rey admits.  “I’ll think about it, I guess.  Let’s get to work,” she decides.  “We’ve wasted enough time.”  Enough with the personal confidences.

 

But Rey barely gets started before they are interrupted by one of Kylo’s aides.  The man bursts into the room without knocking.  He’s pushing the empty hoverchair Army used before he gained the stamina to walk the Palace halls.  “General, Sir—“

 

“Moff.”

 

“Moff, Sir, you need to get dressed and come quickly.  You too, Senator,” the man says breathlessly.  He looks frightened and it gets both their attention.

 

“What is it?” Rey asks.  Instantly, she has a bad feeling about this.

 

“Are we being invaded?”  Army is more to the point as he pulls on his clothes.

 

“There is a large object that has emerged out of hyperspace into our system,” the man reports. 

 

“What is it?” Army asks the obvious question as he shrugs into his coat.

 

“Just come,” the impatient officer half-wails.

 

“Alright.  Get in. I’ll push.” Rey nabs the hoverchair and takes charge.  Army gets in and she turns to the officer.  “Lead the way,” she orders as their trio heads fast for the door.

 

“Everyone is on the landing pad.  Even Ren.”

 

“Not in the command center?” Army quizzes.

 

“The landing pad, Sir.”

 

“That’s not good,” Army mutters.  Rey tends to agree. 

 

They have broken into a run now.  And as soon as they exit the private quarters of the Palace, Rey’s sense of unease deepens further.  There isn’t a guard or a staffer anywhere she looks as they race through the empty hallways.  Where is everyone?   Rey gets her answer when she reaches their destination.   There is a large crowd of staff members and troopers milling about on the landing pad. 

 

“Oh, no.” Rey gasps as she perceives why. 

 

“Well, fuck.”  For once, the fastidious, ever dignified Armitage Hux swears. 

 

But no one notices.  Everyone is too distracted. All around Rey, people are muttering amongst themselves.  Some are on comcalls saying goodbyes and leaving messages for loved ones. Others are pointing up staring in transfixed disbelief.  For hanging in the sky is a shocking, sobering sight.  It’s some sort of Death Star.  The spherical fortress is greenish in hue instead of standard durasteel grey.  And the design seems a little off.  But the giant circular dish used to focus energy on a target is unmistakable even at this distance.  Whatever this is, it’s a weapon of mass destruction.  And it’s parked in orbit above the Empire’s capital world.

 

Rey gulps.  “That’s not ours, is it?”

 

“No,” Army confirms grimly.

 

Up ahead, Kylo stands apart from the crowd gathered behind him.  He is a tall dark figure in his vicar’s robes with his cape and his raven locks tossing in the wind.  But like everyone else, Supreme Leader Ren stands looking up to face the coming defeat.   He knows as well as everyone else that there is no escape.

 

And oddly enough, Rey thinks Kylo has never looked more heroic than in this moment.  He’s about to become a martyr like his parents and his uncle and the Jedi Master he was named for.

 

This was Jerard’s plan all along—to obtain a superweapon to use against his enemy.  Kylo Ren himself thwarted the first attempt, but somehow, somewhere General Jerard manufactured a replacement in record time.  This moment is the result.  Perhaps there ought to be some irony for the destroyers of the New Republic to face similar destruction themselves, but all Rey can perceive is more needless slaughter of billions of innocent people.  There is no justice in this comeuppance, only loss.

 

“Where is your father when we need him?” Army breathes out his dismay. 

 

“It hasn’t been a month yet.  He said he would be gone a month,” Rey answers absently from over his shoulder. 

 

Like everyone else, Rey can’t take her eyes off the looming technological terror.   This is how it must have felt to be on Jedha or on Alderaan.  To see the threat and know what was coming.  At least the citizens on Hosnia didn’t know what hit them.  Maybe they saw the red streaks across the galaxy, but did they know what they meant?  Staring death in the face is not new for Rey.  She had many close calls growing up on Jakku.  And later, she saw plenty of combat with the Resistance.  But this is something altogether different.  The dread is awful. 

 

Someone behind her exclaims softly, “Look at the size of that thing.”

 

“Shouldn’t we evacuate?” another voice wails.

 

“What’s the point?” the stoic officer standing beside Rey answers. 

 

She herself wonders aloud now, “How long do we have?” 

 

Army shrugs.  “Who knows?” He climbs down from the hoverchair now. “I’m dying on my feet. I always die on my feet,” he announces as he moves to stand at Kylo’s left shoulder.  As he approaches, Army offers a handshake that Leader Ren accepts.  The two men, long known to be bitterly contemptuous of one another, now publicly reveal their friendship for all to see.  For there are no cameras present to prompt them to pretend.  Kylo claps Army on the back and Army nods his acknowledgment.  The crowd falls silent watching the moment of true empathy between longtime rivals. 

 

The Grand Moff is a man of words, unlike his Supreme Leader, and so he marks the occasion with a speech.  He tells Kylo, “We did our best, even if we made mistakes.  May history remember us for what we boldly attempted.  And may others one day finish what we started by taking up the cause of peace and order.”

 

Rey watches Kylo visibly swallow.   She sees the tight jaw that betrays his discomfort.  She knows that he was hoping to finish the job his grandfather started with the first Empire.  But it looks like that will not be the case.  Kylo Ren, the erstwhile Ben Skywalker Solo, will be the latest in his clan to fall short of his ambitions. 

 

Hux turns around now to face the others assembled behind them.  In a sturdy voice, the Grand Moff repeats his private words to Kylo.  It’s the shortest address Armitage Hux has ever given.  His audience responds with the First Order salute.  Then, Army calls the military types in attendance to attention.  Armitage Hux, like his troops, stands ramrod straight now too.  For these people have long been willing to give their lives for their cause.  And so, they are proud in the face of doom.

 

Hearing Army’s words triggers understanding in Rey.  She walks up to where Kylo stands with Army.  Kylo knows she’s coming.  He puts an arm around her shoulder in silent solidarity.  His face is as bleak as hers as she confides her hunch, “This is why the Force kept Carl.   So he would live on after we are gone.” 

 

So that one day, the six-week newborn hunted by his father’s enemies could return as a grown man to reclaim his father’s Empire.   So that a Chosen One will live to bring lasting balance to the galaxy in a way his parents never got the chance to do.  For the Force always finds a way.  Meandering throughout history, choosing favorites to rise and casting impediments aside, revising course now and then—sometimes abruptly—in a relentless drive towards balance.  The Force gets what the Force wants, but its ways are mysterious.  At best, fate is a rough justice, and often its events seem inexplicable.  But today, Rey knows with resigned certainty that she and Kylo are the losers.  That giant metal orb filling the sky is checkmate.  Jerard Bin-Salman wins . . . for now.    

 

But as long as a Skywalker lives, hope lives in the galaxy.  General Jerard and his zealots might quash freedom, but they cannot kill hope.  And as long as the Force shelters a secret, hidden Chosen One, that hope has a champion in the making.  This is the burden Carl Solo will bear and the legacy he will one day confront.  Rey can only hope that her son lives to fulfill his destiny.  For his sake and for the sake of all in the galaxy.

 

Suddenly, she is very, very glad that the Force took her baby boy. 

 

Rey starts to cry with relief.  She was all wrong not to trust the Force to care for Carl.  Foolishly, she had been thinking of her own loss and not the larger good of all.  Yes, Carl is her son, but his birthright makes him so much more.  Her son could be the savior that his father once aspired to be. 

 

Kylo folds weeping Rey into his arms, stroking her hair as he consoles her, “The Force will be with him always.”  She nods into Kylo’s chest in silent response.  “Your father will find him and help him.  He couldn’t have a better protector and teacher than Darth Vitiate.”  Then, Kylo promises, “Carl won’t be alone,” for he knows that is her worst fear.  That her son will grow up an orphan on his own like she did. 

 

Kylo’s words comfort her. Rey pulls back and looks up. “I love you,” she blurts out.  She said it once in a message and once in a very public argument, but today is the time to say it right even if it’s too late.  She and Kylo have their issues, but somehow those matter less now that the end is near.  All that matters is that she cares.  She wants him to know it.

 

Kylo looks at her solemnly. “I know.  Rey, I’ve always known.”

 

“If we had more time . . .  if the war had ended differently . . . Kylo, we would have made it.  I know we would have . . . ”  She is babbling now. 

 

“I know,” he soothes.  His voice is firm but resigned.  “We are destiny.  But destiny looks a little different than I hoped it would.”

 

They are interrupted now by Mrs. Faris.  The Palace housekeeper bustles up to loudly complain, “Are we just going to stand here and take it?”   She’s outraged at their acceptance of the situation.

 

Rey steps back from Kylo to blink at her sentiment.  There’s a Death Star taking aim at them even as they speak.  Very likely, they are seconds from death. 

 

But Kylo’s stalwart housekeeper isn’t willing to concede defeat.  Mrs. Faris points a finger at Kylo’s chest.  “You,” she challenges, “Do something!  Like you did with the star destroyer!”

 

Kylo nods slowly.  “Size matters not,” he murmurs as he turns to Rey.  “I pulled the _Finalizer_ out of orbit.   Think I can scuttle a Death Star?”

 

Uh . . . well, why not?   “It’s worth a try.  I’ll help,” she offers.  Because who knows?  It could work.

 

Kylo grabs her hand as they both summon the Force.  They each raise their free hands to the sky in the direction of the threat. They are two Chosen Ones facing down annihilation and that has to count for something.  Plus, the lives of billions and the outcome of a war hang in the balance.  If there ever was a moment when the galaxy needed heroes, this is it.  So Rey concentrates like she has never done before.

 

Time seems to stand still and the world around her recedes as Rey sinks deeper and deeper into the Force.  She’s not aware of anything now other than Kylo gripping her hand tightly.  She can do this.  They can do this.  Please, she begs the Force, let us be an instrument of your will.  Let us prevail so that the cause of balance will not be lost.  So that the lives of those already fallen will not be in vain.  Give us another chance.  Let us live and we will correct our mistakes.

 

“STOP!  Stop, I say!”

 

Wait—what??  “Father?”  Rey recognizes the voice.   She loses focus and blinks back to her reality.  Then relief floods her because if Darth Vitiate is here, they are saved.  “Father!”  Looking across the landing pad, she sees a familiar face striding towards her from down a First Order command shuttle ramp.  Somehow, the shuttle had landed right in front of them without her realizing it.  That’s how immersed she had been in the Force. 

 

“Father!” Rey shrieks as she drops Kylo’s hand and rushes forward.  “Oh, Father!”  Darth Vitiate is presenting as his true self.  He’s wearing garish red battle armor with a black cape.  It makes him look like a kid’s action figure come to life.  But Rey has never been happier to see him in her life. 

 

Kylo’s words stop their reunion.  “Get back on that ship!   There’s nothing you can do here!  Take Rey and leave now!” he bellows.  Kylo still has one hand reaching to the sky.  Sweat is dripping down his face and his body trembles as he struggles to keep his focus with all the distractions.

 

“STOP!”  Darth Vitiate commands to the Supreme Leader.  In this guise, her father is recognizable only to herself, Kylo, Army, and Mrs. Faris.  That is, until he shoots Force lightning at his Apprentice.  “Stop!   You’ll wreck it!”

 

“Kylo!”  Rey really shrieks now.  She rushes over to where Kylo is face down on the ground.

 

Vitiate is unconcerned.  He complains hotly, gesturing to the sky above.  “This is why we can’t have nice things!   You always break them!  Am I right or am I right, Mrs. Faris?  Walls, computer consoles, ships, masks, Death Stars---he breaks them!  He breaks them all!”

 

The bewildered housekeeper nods her agreement blankly. 

 

The rest of the crowd behind her looks utterly confused at the flashy ranting newcomer with the Force.

 

Irritated, Kylo growls at his old Master as he picks himself off the ground. “Look up, you fool!  That’s no moon—“

 

“Of course, it’s no moon!  It’s my space station.   My prototype Death Star from a few thousand years ago.”

 

“Wait—that’s yours??” Rey breathes out. 

 

“No, it’s his now.”  Darth Vitiate points to Kylo.  “Happy birthday, happy Life Day, happy Empire Day, happy everything, Apprentice.  I hereby present you with your very own Death Star.  Treat it gently.  It’s an antique.”

 

“Oh,” Rey gasps as the meaning sinks in.  They are saved.  She exclaims the words aloud, “We’re saved!”

 

Beside her, Army Hux exhales his relief.  “Thank you, Sith Daddy,” he mumbles under his breath.

 

Vitiate hears him. “Precisely,” he snaps.  “Hux gets it.” Vitiate frowns at his Apprentice and crosses his arms.  “Now where’s your gratitude, Kylo Ren?”

 

He’ll get none from his Apprentice.  Kylo looks absolutely livid now.  “You fucking punk me with my own Death Star and you want me to thank you??” he growls.

 

“You sure fell for it,” Vitiate chuckles, “like I knew you would.”  The Sith Master is gleefully unrepentant.  “That, Apprentice, was payback for leaving me in jail.”

 

“You’re not a Sith Lord, you’re a fucking troll!” Kylo accuses.  “You are currently terrorizing all of Coruscant as our people wait to die!” he roars.

 

Darth Vitiate just shrugs.  These things do not concern him.   He tells Rey and Army now, “Don’t worry, kids.  Father brought home a present for everyone.  You’ll get yours.” 

 

“This is what you were searching for in the Unknown Regions?” Kylo wants to know.  “Some scratch and dent super weapon??”

 

“Yes.  I knew I had one somewhere.  I built it long ago.  I just had to find it.”

 

“You built a Death Star thousands of years before Sheev Palpatine?” Rey asks.

 

“Well, actually some enslaved systems made it for me.  But, essentially yes.  Where do you think my old Apprentice Sidious got the idea from?” Vitiate expounds.  “Don’t worry.  It still works. I tested it on a Chiss moon on the way here.”

 

“We could win the war with this,” excited Army speaks his thoughts aloud.   “Ren, this is the advantage we need.”  The redheaded Moff’s icy blue eyes are lit with deadly possibilities.

 

Rey is aghast.  Does no one remember that just seconds ago they all thought Coruscant was going to be destroyed?  Did that not make a lasting impression on anyone?  “You are not going to blow up the Mid Rim with this,” Rey announces flatly.

 

“Well, maybe a planet or two,” Army suggests hopefully, looking to the Supreme Leader Emeritus for confirmation. 

 

“Turnabout is fair play,” Vitiate points out.  “Jerard would have done this to you.”

 

“I get to fire this one,” Kylo calls dibs. “It’s mine.”

 

“Kylo!” Rey protests her disapproval hotly.  “You’ll kill billions of people!”

 

“What??” he responds, looking a little defensive but also a little indignant.  “Rey, it’s a Death Star.  They don’t set to stun.”

 

Her father smirks.  “Spoken like a true prince of Alderaan.  But,” he reveals, “you don’t need my new toy to get Jerard.”  Darth Vitiate hollers up the shuttle ramp behind him. “Bring him out.”  

 

A pair of stormtroopers appear dragging an injured enemy prisoner down the ramp.  They thrust the man unceremoniously at Lord Vitiate’s feet.

 

“Jerard,” Kylo gapes as he recognizes the bloodied captive.  Behind him, the crowd of Palace staffers audibly stirs.  This is public enemy number one of the Empire.  The man who is responsible for the civil war.

 

“Oh, it was such fun,” Vitiate recalls aloud.  “I marched into his headquarters projecting as Snoke.  I dragged him out as everyone shot at me.  That artillery you aimed at Skywalker was nothing compared to the firepower I merited.  Pity a few of those shots hit him, but never fear.  He will be sufficiently alive and well for our tender ministrations, Apprentice.  The traitor General here has much to answer for.” 

 

Beside her, Kylo nods gravely.  Rey can feel his anger rising as hate flows through him.

 

Vitiate approves of this Darkness but tells his Apprentice to stand down.  “I see that rage.  But now is not the time.  Do you have a cell we can put him in?”

 

“Absolutely,” Hux answers.

 

“Why bother,” Rey steps forward.   She too is lusting for justice.

 

“Whoa there, Rey.”  It’s Kylo grabbing her arm. 

 

She whirls on him.  “He’s why Carl is lost!”

 

Darth Vitiate intervenes, stepping forward to reassure her.  “Never fear, he shall atone.  Stand down, Daughter.  Let me handle this.  Take him away!” the ancient Sith orders with maximum contempt.  “No one harms the prisoner,” Darth Vitiate informs the watchful crowd.  “I will deal with him myself.” 

 

Rey watches balefully as Bin-Salman Jerard is led inside.  Whatever punishment her father enacts on him, it had better be good.  Rey might champion justice, but she’s also from Jakku.  And on Jakku, justice is an eye for an eye.

 

“Now then,” Darth Vitiate moves on, “I picked up another passenger along the way.  I brought something special home for you, Hux.  It’s not a Death Star, but I think you’ll like it,” he smirks.  Then once again, her father turns to bellow up the shuttle ramp.  “Bring her out.”

 

Two troopers escort yet another prisoner down the ramp.  This one is a woman in a First Order prison jumpsuit emblazoned with ‘IN CUSTODY’ across the front.  She’s tall, very dark skinned, and completely bald.  And also, jaw droppingly beautiful.  With high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, full lips, and a regal bearing that stands in opposition to her current circumstances. 

 

Rey glances over to Army.  He looks like he’s seeing a ghost.

 

Darth Vitiate gestures magnanimously.  “I bring you an old friend I found in a work camp.  She has been pardoned and is released for your personal oversight.”

 

Rey leans in to Kylo for a furtive whisper, “Who is that?”  

 

“Hux’s New Republic spy ex-wife.  Didn't think she was still alive.   Neither did Hux by the look of him.”

 

“Wait—whaat?  She was Resistance?” Rey demands.

 

Kylo nods and explains, “She was his commanding officer years ago, but she supposedly turned traitor.  Hux thinks his father framed her.  Brendol Hux did not approve.”

 

“So was she one of us?”

 

Kylo smirks.  “Define us.   Us like me or us like you?”

 

Rey is impatient with his answer.  “Was she Resistance?” she hisses.

 

Kylo shrugs.  “The evidence was shaky at best.”

 

“Not entirely,” Darth Vitiate, who has been listening to this conversation, speaks up.  “But water under the bridge now, eh?   Besides, she’s not the only one around here with a sketchy past.  Right, Daughter?” Vitiate laughs.

 

Rey lifts her chin and declares, “I like her already.”

 

Army is still gaping at the woman in handcuffs and leg chains.  “D-Dexa???” he whispers hoarsely.

 

The prisoner woman answers with a weak half-smile.  “Armitage?” 

 

Army turns back to Vitiate to babble, “But we’re divorced.  It was annulled after she was convicted.”

 

“I don’t believe in divorce,” her father proclaims with a stern look each for her and Kylo.  Then he turns back to Army to order, “Make it work, Moff.  That’s an order”

 

“So you’re a Moff now,” the prisoner woman says softly.

 

“Grand Moff,” Army automatically corrects her.

 

“That makes you Missus Grand Moff,” Darth Vitiate beams while around them everyone gapes in curious silence as they listen in to the conversation. 

 

The prisoner woman looks very uncertain.  “But your father . . . “

 

“He’s dead,” Hux answers quickly.  “I killed him. I killed him for what he did to you.”

 

“Oh,” the woman answers softly.  “I didn’t know.”

 

Rey is busy watching the scene play out when Kylo turns to her father to ask, “What is this about?”

 

“Hux needs his own girl.” 

 

Kylo shoots him a look and unloads his sarcasm.  “You’re quite the matchmaker now.  Mr. Sith Family Values.” 

 

Vitiate snorts at this characterization.  He has a different explanation.  “Hux is too friendly with Rey.”

 

“They’re just friends.” 

 

Vitiate is unimpressed.  “I was friends with a woman once.  I fell in love with her.  But that risk is averted.  Hux’s old flame is back.”

 

“I thought she got the death penalty,” Kylo remarks as he and a hundred other people watch Hux and Mrs. Hux awkwardly embrace.   Ashen faced Army looks spooked and she looks less than enthusiastic.  If this is a happy ending, it’s a tepid one at best.

 

But the ultimate Sith Master doesn’t see it that way.  “How sweet,” Vitiate muses and it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not.  Then, he makes it a teachable moment for Kylo.  “I kept her around in case she might be useful. Always play the long game, Apprentice.”    

 

“That only works if you’re immortal,” Kylo gripes. 

 

“Now then, Rey, you have been very patient.  It is time for your gift. I found it in a museum of all places.  It was misidentified as ancient cooking equipment,” Vitiate chuckles. 

 

Rey is lost in this reference.  In fact, she can’t begin to identify what her father floats out of the shuttle to set before her with the help of the Force.  It looks like a large black pot with alien markings on it.   

 

“Know what it is?”

 

“No,” Rey confesses, although the longer she looks at the markings, the more familiar they seem.  “I’ve seen this writing before, I think.”

 

Kylo pushes past her now to kneel before the pot.  “Wow,” he breathes as he reaches to touch it gently.  “You found one . . .”

 

“Not just any one.  But mine.  I found mine, Apprentice.”

 

Kylo is very impressed now.  “Wow . . .”

 

Frustrated Rey wants in on the secret.  “What is it?” she demands.

 

“A Sith cauldron,” Kylo answers with reverence.  “This is the ultimate in Dark Side relics.”

 

“Oh,” Rey doesn’t know what to say.  Why is her father giving her this?  She and Kylo are trying to keep the Force in balance.  This gift doesn’t really comport with Kylo’s ‘let the past die’ objective.

 

“Daughter, I have a few ideas that might help us get Carl back.  The cauldron will help me focus my best magic.”

 

She nods blankly.

 

Vitiate reaches to gently lift her chin.  “The gift is yet to come.  The gift is not the cauldon, but hopefully your son.  Daughter, you once took a very great risk to reunite our family.  And so, I will use all my power to bring Carl back.  Family is what matters most.  I will not stop until we find him.”

 

“Thank you,” Rey nods.  Then she throws her arms around the armored bulk of Darth Vitiate.  Because he more than anyone seems to realize how much she has lost.  The greatest gift anyone could give her would be her son. 

 

“You should show these people who you really are,” Kylo now suggests to his Master.  “Because most everyone here is totally confused.”

 

Vitiate nods.  When Rey pulls back, he waves his hand.  His alter ego projection Snoke appears from thin air.  The trick earns an audible gasp from the crowd.  “Behold, I am Snoke!” Vitiate declares with a wide grin.  “Your Supreme Leader Emeritus has come home once again.”

 

“And can you park the new Death Star someplace else?” Kylo asks another favor.  “You are terrifying our citizens,” he points out.

 

“Done,” Vitiate agrees.

 

“Got anything else of strategic value hidden away that we don’t know about?” Army pipes up.

 

“As a matter of fact, I found a cryogenically frozen clone army,” her father divulges with a sneaky grin.

 

“Let me guess, those men have been on ice for almost four thousand years,” Kylo responds dryly.

 

“Oh, no, it only been about a century,” Vitiate answers. “I was very busy during my time as Jedi Master Syfo Dias. I commissioned a grand army for the Republic and I commissioned a grand army for myself.  Just in case I needed to usurp Dooku and Sidious.  It was an insurance policy of sorts.”

 

“Good call,” Kylo approves.  “Can you thaw the clones out?”

 

“I already have.   They are manning your new Death Star,” her father reveals.  “That thing is fully armed and operational.  You may fire when ready,” the old Sith fairly cackles.

 

Rey turns to Kylo and states it loudly and plainly, “I absolutely forbid you to destroy a planet with that thing!”

 

“Daughter, you are such a softie,” Vitiate sighs.  But really, the softie here might be him . . . in a way.

 

It turns out that behind closed doors Lord Vitiate, the sometime reformed Sith, agrees with Rey.   The new Death Star will not be used against civilians.  It is decided that its powerful laser will only be used against enemy bases and enemy capital ships.  But first, Army protests long and hard that the point of a super weapon is efficient, quick slaughter that is both decisive and a deterrent.  But even he acknowledges Rey’s point that the civilian casualties are their own citizens.  The people of the occupied Mid Rim are as much Jerard’s victims as anyone else, Rey argues vehemently.  It’s a sentiment Kylo and her father come to endorse.  We’re doing things differently this time around, Kylo tells his Moff and Army backs down.

 

The new Death Star, combined with the capture of General Jerard, turns the tide of the war.  But it is no cakewalk to victory.  For all agree that they have to do more than kill Jerard.  They have to defeat his ideas.   This was the flaw in the Rebellion victory at the Battle of Jakku.  A sizeable chunk of the galaxy passively liked the Empire.  A small minority were its rabid proponents. The latter became the First Order but the former hung around as well making things difficult for the fledgling New Republic.  You either kill all your opponents or you convince them they were wrong, Kylo contends.   Because otherwise, you run the risk of repeating the same civil war again in thirty years.   That is the cycle of revolution that he intends to break. 

 

And that’s the real reason Kylo wants his Empire to have a functioning Senate and other touchstones of the two prior Republics.  Because with the galaxy fairly evenly split on how to organize itself and a history of veering between both options, perhaps a hybrid is most sustainable path forward in the long run.  Everyone gets a little they like and a little they don’t like in a grand compromise.  It’s balance, Kylo tells Rey. 

 

And so, dragging the war out a bit to provide time for Jerard’s glorious caliphate experiment to fail becomes a deliberate strategy.  It’s not because they want to prolong the war, so much as they want to prove a point to prevent a future war.  Rey is fine with that because it’s one more reason not to use the new Death Star at its full capacity.

 

In between talk of war and governance, Darth Vitiate busies himself with his old Sith magic.  Most every night, the sky above the Palace is crackling with lightning and storm clouds as the ancient Sith sorcerer tinkers with his big pot.  Kylo is fascinated by it even though Rey looks a bit askance.   But she’s willing to try just about anything to get Carl back.  So when one night her father requests her participation in his nightly ritual, Rey attends.  She walks out on the Palace terrace to where Darth Vitiate conjures the Dark Side.  There she finds Kylo waiting, along with the Huxes and Mrs. Faris.  Even Mon Mothma the Cat is waiting for her. 

 

“What are we doing?” Rey asks, suddenly feeling nervous at her audience. 

 

Her father leads her by the hand towards his caldron. “I am opening a portal into the World Between Worlds.  Rey, I want you to go in.”

 

She feels put on the spot.  “Do I have to?” she asks in a small voice.  “It didn’t work last time.”  Rey fears a repeat of her experience on Naboo, with frightening confrontations that recreate the loss of her son and culminate in disappointment. “Why would it be any different now?” she challenges. 

 

“It might not be different,” her father concedes.  “But if the Force lets me open a portal, it must have a reason for doing so.  That might yield a clue.  We must be open to what the Force will teach us,” he counsels sagely. 

 

Rey nods and takes a deep breath. “I understand.   I’m ready.”  

 

Darth Vitiate, the Master Sorcerer of the Sith, begins his ancient ritual now.  It’s a lot of singsong chants in Kittat as he slowly summons his full power, building to the ultimate moment.  The breeze picks up, the skies part, lightning flashes, and the temperature drops.  The Dark Side cometh, bringing its promises of alchemy and unnatural acts.  But this time, the Sith Emperor is not reviving the dead, conjuring creatures, concocting poisons, or cursing an enemy.  Instead, he is asking for a much greater favor.  Darth Vitiate seeks to open a breach in the cosmic Force.  He coaxes the universe to let him take a peek into what never was and can never be.  To open a door into a set of alternate realities that few are privileged to see.  His means are Dark but his goal is Light.  For all this power is committed for the love of a lost grandson.  This is a rescue mission, a plea for mercy, and some Sith self-help combined.  Will the Force grant its Dark priest’s Light wish?  It does.

 

A shimmering portal to the World Between Worlds now opens on the Palace terrace.

 

Darth Vitiate nods to her, and Rey walks in. 

 

Now, she stands in desert sand in the fleeting last moments of dusk. Behind her is a humble homestead with softly glowing lights.  Surrounding her at regular distances are humming vaporators.  Is this her moisture farm?   Rey doesn’t know.  She is completely disoriented.

 

She turns around and sees Kylo.  He’s facing away, looking at an impressive twin sunset off in the distance.  Kylo is dressed in shabby, baggy work clothes like herself.   He must feel her gaze because he glances back over his shoulder to give her a reassuring smile.  Then, Kylo speaks. “He’s nearly here.   He’s approaching from the southeast.”

 

Yes.  Of course.  That is the direction Rey had been facing.  She too had been expecting whoever is coming.

 

Sure enough, a cloaked and hooded man soon comes into view.  He is riding a tall beast of burden that makes its way slowly towards the homestead.  The animal grunts and groans as it approaches.   Then, it folds its knees to kneel for the rider to disembark.  As the man slides down, Rey perceives two things that make her heart begin to race.

 

The man is dressed as a Jedi.

 

And he is carrying a baby. 

 

The man approaches Rey like he knows her.   But if she is supposed to recognize him, she does not.  She sees that he is tall and young, but his features are mostly concealed by his hood.  He walks up fast and carefully transfers his precious bundle into Rey’s arms. 

 

It’s Carl. 

 

Rey wants to faint with relief.  Her son is dressed in the white pajamas she remembers, wrapped in the swaddle blanket she recognizes.  Poking out of the fabric folds is the small holochron rattle Darth Vitiate had given him.

 

Yes.  This is absolutely Carl.  Rey can hardly breathe for a moment as the knowledge sinks in.

 

But something is missing.  “There was a sword.   Where is the sword?” Rey asks the stranger who delivered her son. She looks up and for the first time sees his face under the hood.  He is handsome in a familiar way she cannot place.  But his most striking features are his yellow eyes.  They dominate his face.

 

“Oooohh,” Rey breathes out.  She knows what those eyes mean.  This man dressed as a Jedi is Dark.  Rey takes an involuntary step back.

 

The man responds by reaching to his waist where a sword hilt hangs.  As Rey tenses, he unclips the weapon and offers it to her.  It’s the very same weapon she found in Maz Kanata’s basement.  This is the Skywalker saber. 

 

“I want him to have it when he’s old enough,” the man says quietly.  “Until then, use it yourself.”

 

Rey snatches the sword and takes another long step back.  She is threatened by this stranger and uncertain of his intentions.   Rey keeps backing away before she turns and runs to Kylo.  

 

Kylo puts a protective, steadying arm around her as their little family unit faces the tall stranger.  At least in this reality, she and Kylo are together.  These versions of them have managed to find accord.

 

The yellowed eyed Jedi now tells Rey, “It is a great sacrifice for a mother to give up her son.  You did the right thing to save his life.  He will know it even if he will not remember it.  And he will love you all the more for it.  Boys always love their mothers.”

 

Rey gathers Carl closer and starts pleading now, “Let us keep him.  Please let me take him home.”   A tear drips down her cheek as the emotion of the moment bubbles up.  She fears that yet again the Force will tease her with a reunion that it will not allow.  “Carl deserves a family who loves him,” Rey begs.  “We miss him.  Please let him come home.”

 

The man nods gravely and responds, “So be it.”  

 

Then Rey blinks and she’s back on the Palace terrace surrounded by family and friends.  And . . . she’s holding Carl.

 

She panics a moment, looking about frantically.  Wondering if this is real.  Exiting the World Between Worlds is as disorienting as entering it.  It takes a moment to comprehend what’s going on.  Is she truly back in her own reality?  Did the Force finally give her baby back?  

 

It did. 

 

Kylo envelopes her and Carl in a bear hug while Darth Vitiate beams from ear to ear.   Army Hux looks like he might cry with relief. Off to the side, Mrs. Faris and Dexa Hux are clapping their hands.  It’s a joyous moment of relief that has Rey weak on her feet, sagging against Kylo who props her up. 

 

Carl is exactly the same as when she heaved him into the portal on Naboo.  He hasn’t grown or changed a bit.   “I didn’t miss anything,” Rey breathes out her relief.  It’s like time stood still while the Force waited to return him. 

 

She’s overjoyed but still utterly confused with this unexpected turn of events.   Rey looks to her father. “I don’t understand—why would the Force give him back now?”

 

“Maybe because it’s clear we will win the war?” Kylo posits. 

 

Darth Vitiate shakes his head.  He seems to think the answer is obvious.  “Carl was returned because we are all united on the same side.  Because we are finally the family the boy needs.”  The wise rascal patriarch, the valiant devoted mother, and the visionary leader father.  All who will love, raise, and teach this latest Skywalker.  Vitiate is the past, she lives firmly in the present, and Kylo dreams of his glorious future.  And this time, the new generation will grow up without the backdrop of persistent war, without absent or dead parents, and without lies and painful secrets.  At long last, there will be a solid foundation to rear the next Chosen One. 

 

“You’re saying that the Force was waiting for us to get back together?” Rey squints. 

 

“Are we really back together?” Kylo mutters.  Lately, he’s been spending most nights at the apartment with her, but Rey continues to resist his pleas to move back to the Palace. It’s a sore point with both of them. But Kylo looks at her now steadily. “Does this mean you’re coming home?”

 

Everyone is looking at her.   Even the Huxes.  Rey takes a deep breath.  

 

“Yes, I’m coming home,” she decides.   Looking down at Carl, she amends, “We’re coming home.”  Moved by the moment, she wants their family to be together, like she has longed for and like the Force apparently intends. 

 

“Took you long enough,” her father grumbles as everyone exhales.  “Hand him over to Master Grandpa,” Vitiate reaches for Carl.  “Let me see my namesake.”

 

As the Eternal Emperor of the Sith cuddles his latest scion and next Apprentice, Kylo looks to her.  He’s about to speak when Rey preempts him.  “Don’t say it—I know—we are inevitable and this is destiny fulfilled.  The Force just proved it when it gave Carl back.” 

 

“Yes.”  Kylo is as serious and earnest as he has ever been.  But then, his long face brightens into a rare smile.  “This is a second chance.   We can’t screw this up.”

 

“We won’t.”  With a glance over at her newfound son, Rey knows that they have to succeed—with the Empire, with the Force, and with their marriage.  Because with Carl back home, there is too much at stake to fail. 

 

“Come meet your Uncle Hux.”  Vitiate is showing off baby Carl to Army now.  “Someday, you’ll be his boss,” the wily Sith coos. 

 

Rey is amused, but Kylo is irked. “Don’t I get to hold him?” Kylo complains.  “I’m his father.  I’ve never actually held my son for real.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Vitiate relents as he walks back over with the baby. “Meet your sire, little Apprentice.  The mighty Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the galaxy and the first to truly balance the Force.  But never fear, little one.  If he’s not good to you,” Vitiate promises gleefully, “I will help you overthrow him.”

 

“Hey!” Kylo objects. 

 

Vitiate shrugs.  “It’s us.  Team Skywalker is not known for getting along.  If in twenty years, we’re all alive with both our hands, we can count it as a great victory.”  Her father passes over the baby as he confides to Carl, “You and I will keep your father on his toes.”

 

“That’s my job,” Rey proclaims happily. 

 

“Then what’s my job?” the Supreme Leader Emeritus asks.

 

“Diaper duty,” Kylo deadpans. 

 

Rey laughs.  “Your job is your usual vocation—making trouble.”

 

“I excel at that,” Darth Vitiate boasts.  No one contradicts him.  “At long last, the Force is with us,” he muses happily.  “All of us.  Like I always intended.”

 

“Are you going to claim you have foreseen this moment?” Kylo drawls as he cuddles Carl.

 

“No.  Far from it,” Vitiate smirks.  “I thought this day would never come.”

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	64. Chapter 64 Ending story notes

Hello and thanks for reading.    

 

So Vitiate arrives to save the day.  He has been capable of it all along, but he had other priorities and agendas.   But once Rey is healed, Vitiate is off to fix things in the way only he can.  I like to think that this man has come a long way from the power mad Sith he started life as.  I’m a different person than I was ten years ago.  We all grow and change.  Just imagine how we might change over that lengthy time span.  Four thousand years later, Vitiate has learned some lessons and changed his priorities.  But he is still everything said about him—an evil monster with a long list of misdeeds he feels were fully justified at the time.   Vitiate is neither repentant nor redeemed, he’s simply evolved. He’s capable of being the good guy or the bad guy at this point.  Mostly, he’s a free agent now.  Incidentally, this is how I perceive Vader would be had he survived the confrontation with Luke and Vader.  He wouldn’t be apologizing and crying for the cameras, he would be moving on. 

 

I also imagine that it is a very hard thing for someone to throw off the mindset and ideals they are raised on.  Vitiate was born and raised a Sith at the height of the Sith Empire.  His formative years were spent in a culture at odds with how the galaxy ultimately evolved.  In my mind, Vitiate was a man who did all he could do as a Sith, got bored and curious about the Republic, and that led him to Revan which ultimately led him to break with his past.  The jail stint helped too.

 

In this story, it turns out that Vitiate wants what he says he wants all along:  to be released from jail and to reunite his family. It’s the very same pitch he makes to Rey earlier in the story.  In the end, Vitiate follows through.  And, in typical fashion, he manages to prank Kylo big time in the process.  Vitiate has a streak of jokester Yoda in him.  But the Force agrees with Vitiate’s goals.  Finally, it returns Carl. 

 

When Kylo has the vision of Carl returning as a young man, it occurs at a time when he and Rey are apart.  Because that will be the consequence of their failure to compromise—they lose the chance to raise their son. These two can’t just preach compromise and balance, they have to prove they can do it themselves.  The Force is through with dysfunctional Skywalkers after the last two generations.  It refuses to yield the baby until Rey and Kylo get back together. 

 

Rey’s experience in the Force receiving Carl is supposed to be a nod to the Episode 3 scene when Kenobi delivers Luke to Owen and Beru Lars.  Only this time, it’s Anakin delivering the boy, handing over his lightsaber for a new generation.  I am really hoping we get to see Anakin again in Episode 9.  I like to think that he plays some active role with Kylo’s story.

 

For those who are interested, Tenebrae—as in Carl Tenebrae, Lord Vitiate--is Latin for Darkness.  In the Catholic Church, Tenebrae refers to the service three days prior to Easter when candles are slowly extinguished until the church is in total darkness.  It is a visual representation of the passion of the Christ and the darkening of the world from its pervasive sin.   The Catholic Church lights an Easter candle to represent the risen Jesus as the literal light of the world, come to defeat sin.  For a single light can defeat darkness.  Tenebrae is not my chosen name for Vitiate.  It’s the Legends canon name.  I did not make this up.  But I love it.

 

The ending return of Vitiate is a nod to _Rogue One_.  I love how the Death Star keeps showing up as the Big Baddie looming over its victims in that film.  I wanted to recreate that foreboding moment over Coruscant.  Last summer, Little Blue asked one night if we could watch the Star Wars movie that has the Death Star and ends with a wedding.  So, I turned on Episode 4.  Leia wears a white dress at the end, there’s a ceremony, and the Death Star gets blown up, right?   Wrong movie.  It turns out Little Blue wanted to watch _Rogue One_.  He mistook the final moments of Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor for a wedding.  They hug on the beach before they die and Little Blue thought that meant they got married.   Big Blue never let him live that down.  Like every big brother everywhere would, he mercilessly made fun of Little Blue all summer long.  Every time something blew up in a movie, Big Blue would tease Little Blue that ‘someone got married.’   The Blue family is awful like that.   Anyhow, I wanted Vitiate to show up with his own superweapon to punk the shit out of Kylo.  Because that’s totally something Vitiate would do.

 

Hux gets a girl.  Hux needed a girl after even the cat rejects him.  I have come to see Kylo and Hux as very similar characters, even if they have different personalities.  In this story, I think they ended up something like feuding brothers who love to hate each other. 

 

For the record, I showed remarkable forbearance on that cat.  I was going to have the cat jump in Vitiate’s Sith caldron or maybe have Kylo seated on his throne petting that cat like some old school James Bond villain.  And oh, the silly situations that cat could create.  Pets are a bit like little children—they are embarrassingly hilarious at times. 

 

Anyhow, this one is done.  I guess I am still a controversial Reylo author.  I honestly don’t know since I don’t participate in Facebook or Tumblr or other websites for Star Wars.  I only get feedback on comments to my stories.  If I am controversial, I think it’s largely because I have zero interest in these characters out of universe. You will never catch me writing some modern AU Reylo.  Because taking these characters out of context robs them of everything that makes them interesting.  Kylo without the Force and a family legacy on his shoulders is just another sullen, intense guy.  And Rey without Jakku, the Resistance, and her emotionally deprived background is kind of an average good girl with some lefty leanings.  Woke but blah.  So much of what makes these two compelling is who they are in universe, what they represent, and the stakes involved.  And so, when I see ‘Kylo is a professor and Rey is his student’ trope-type fics, I don’t know what that is, but it sure as Hell isn't Reylo.   A lot of those stories seem to be escapist erotica because ‘Kylo and Rey meet in a club on Coruscant and they go home together for a one-night apolitical sex romp’ would never happen in a galaxy far, far away.   I think of those fics as harmless, meaningless fun.   And hey, I’m fine with that.  Write what you want and read what you want.  But it is in this rather saccharine context that my stories come off as very dark by comparison.  I prefer to think of them as serious and adult.  Because my stories are less about the joyous abandon of falling in love and more about the hard work of staying together.  About obstacles that are sometimes of your own making.  About shit that comes out of nowhere to screw up your life.   And there are stakes involved—the fate of the galaxy, the fate of the Force, the loss of your love and sometimes children.  There is real jeopardy and risk to my Reylo relationships.  You might end up Dark or dead or a prisoner for this love.  These aren’t coffee shop AUs where the worst thing that happens is you get embarrassed or your feelings hurt. 

 

Honestly, my true love is Star Wars, not Reylo.  (I freely admit that Darth Vader is my Bae, not Kylo).  And unlike the Marvel universe, Star Wars is about big things.  It’s not just ‘time to save the earth again, guys.’  It’s the Force, religious traditions, and our degree of free will.  It’s politics and self-determination.  It’s the shortcomings of democracy and the (admittedly few) upsides of fascism.  It’s about what it means to be in a family and the responsibilities and expectations that brings.  It’s self-discovery and identity and crises of faith  (Here’s looking at you Luke Skywalker).   Or thinking you’re winning, only to lose it all.  It’s about mistakes and regrets and hope and change.  And it’s about how the more things change, the more they stay the same.   I could go on and on.

 

And so, while I have written a lot of Reylo fics, I don't think they are all romances in the traditional sense.  I feel more like they are Star Wars stories and the Reylo is the conflict that drives the plot.  Rarely do I set out to figure out how to get Rey and Kylo to happily ever after.  I know that's a frustration (and gets me a lot of criticism) for those firmly in the happy ending camp. 

 

I guess I write a lot of angst.  But that’s mostly because I like to write about conflict.  Personalities that conflict, politics that conflict, traditions that conflict, ambitions that conflict, and outcomes that conflict.  Conflicts that are real and compelling are hard to bridge, and that's why my versions of Kylo and Rey are often screaming at one another.  Resolving those conflicts short of one person caving to the other is hard.  And since I don't write morality dramas in which Kylo redeems himself and comes around to the Light Side, Rey is usually the character being asked to accept the most.  And, frankly, Rey doesn't strike me as a character with much compromise.  So sparks will fly and lightsabers will cross and occasionally someone will lose a limb or lose their love.  I'm trying to be true to the characters I imagine, and that doesn't always make for a happy ending.  Reylo with an unredeemed Kylo is frankly unfathomable by Disney and much of the fan-based.  So, I have taken on a challenge.  Sometimes it works out better than others. 

 

I always try to write in-character, even if the versions of the characters change slightly (backstories shift too).  Kylo and Rey are extreme characters—that gets lost a lot in the guise of trying to make them relatable.  Rey in particular is a freak show in the making.  Overpowered, undereducated, inexperienced.  Kylo is a great mix of alpha male meets inveterate loser.  But he’s not the serial killer some want to make him.

 

I’m way too close to this story to judge it’s worth.  Sometimes, you finish something and you think—damn, that was good.  But most of the time, it’s not clear.  I’m pretty ho-hum about this fic. I feel as though it is overly plot driven.  More entertainment than meaning.  This story has a lot less in the way of social and political commentary than _Son of Darkness_ , for example.  In many ways, I feel like this story is too simple and too linear.  There are not a lot of big ideas here.  That reflects how casual I was about writing it.  My mind was on other things most of the time, and it shows. 

 

I never planned to write this fic.  Honestly, I was going to write bible story fics next.  I don’t even know if that is a thing (is there such a thing as bible fan fiction??), but I thought it might be fun to write different versions of those tales.  But the bible study group I was planning to join this semester didn’t happen.  I was too busy playing caregiver to make the meetings and do the homework.  And because I don’t feel like bible fic is something that you should do casually without really understanding of the underlying text, I took refuge in Reylo instead.  I don’t need to do homework for Star Wars.  I know my Star Wars.

 

This story more than most is a pep talk for myself.  These past six months have been terrible, full of problems I can’t solve and issues that don’t get better with my usual strategy of throwing money at them.  It’s life.  It has its ups and downs.  Anyone who lives long enough learns that lesson sooner or later.  Sometimes you just have to grit your teeth and bear it.  Anyhow, thanks for reading.  This one was long, but it got me through some tough times.  The end is in sight now.  Looking forward to good times again someday soon.


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